


Sweet Little Lemonhope

by MammothElbow



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Angst, Freedom, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:46:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27102919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MammothElbow/pseuds/MammothElbow
Summary: Lemonhope has finally fulfilled his purpose, but now what? Where will he go and who will he meet? Join him as he meets a growing cast of friends and takes on strange new lands in his quest to experience freedom.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 5





	1. Free at last

Lemonhope stood outside Castle Lemongrab. The sun blazed across the desert and licked Lemonhope with its fiery flames. The yellow expanse touched the horizon with no life to be seen outside of the castle. Lemonhope was used to all this and despised it. Whenever he saw these lands, he thought of Lemongrab and the Lemon people. His duty was finished, but it still haunted him knowing that the Lemon people will always want him to be there. But now he was free. Truly free. He was fully free to do what he wanted, but what to do?

Lemonhope looked to the skies to see where the sun was heading. When he determined East, he thought to what Phlannel taught him of Ooo. If he remembered correctly, across that horizon laid a town filled with people made of grass. He always wanted to be able to talk to grass without sounding insane. With his mind made up, he made his way to the East where a sunset was fast approaching.

His journey felt short as he used his new knowledge of survival in order to forage food and drink from the barren lands. He used his harp to lure small critters for food and cracked open cacti for water. When the sun hung low before him, he saw the land beneath him begin to turn to grass. He looked into the distance and saw that the grass grew taller until it would reach up to his knees, and within this grassy plane he saw little grass buildings stand against the horizon. He could see green figures move back and forth between the houses and mingling together.

With newfound strength, Lemonhope skipped along to the town to get there before the sun fully sank beneath the earth. When he reached the town, the world was bathed in an orange glow. Lemonhope inspected the houses and found them to be made of grass, as he suspected, that grew from the ground and wove themselves together into the form of a house. He touched the house and found it to be as stable and sturdy as a house made of bricks. As he continued to study the housing, a small crowd of grass people started following him.

The grass people were woven together in the same way as the houses were, but were not connected to the ground themselves. They had round bodies and their limbs were like spikes protruding from them. Their heads were in the shape of waterdrops and had little holes where the eyes and mouth were. The tips of their arms split into individual blades of grass and moved like fingers.

The small crowd were silently discussing the strange little lemon when Lemonhope began to play on his harp. The crowd went completely silent and merely stared at the source of the harmonious sounds. Finally, Lemonhope turned away from the house and was surprised to see the crowd. He stopped playing and exchanged stares with grass people. Lemonhope spoke up with a single question, “Does anybody know where I can find a place to sleep?”  
There was a moment of silence before one of the grass people pointed to a large building near the centre of the town. “Thank you,” replied Lemonhope.

The sun was fully set and Lemonhope saw fireflies sit in the streetlamps to help light the street as he made his way to the big building. Once he entered it, he was met with a brightly lit room filled with tables and grass people sitting around them. To the one side of the room was a long bar with only a few grass people behind it. It looked like the owner of this place was the bartender as well. As Lemonhope made his way to the owner, a silence grew wherever he went. Everyone was staring at this strange little lemon.

Lemonhope took a seat by the bar and called for the bartender. “May I help you?” asked the grass man.  
“Yes, I was hoping I could stay here for the night,” said Lemonhope.  
“You’re most welcome to stay here, but it will cost you fifty Tokes for a night.”  
“Tokes?”  
Lemonhope looked around the Inn, taking note of the silent patrons. He then took out his harp and turned to the owner. “If I entertain your people here can I stay for free?” Lemonhope asked.  
“I guess,” muttered the owner. “But only if you’re good and keep the guests entertained.”  
Lemonhope let out a shout of joy and got off the stool. He then turned around with a confused expression. “Where should I play?” he asked looking around for a stage of some sort.  
“Just stand on that empty table over there,” replied the owner who was now focused on cleaning a mug.

Lemonhope made his way across the room to the empty table. He clambered on and once he was on dusted himself off. With a strum of his harp, he began to sing:

_Am I free  
or am I stuck in here  
Too much for me  
it is beyond compare_

_The things that I’ve seen  
and the things that I’ve done  
in the places I’ve been  
and the prizes I’ve won_

_They’re out there  
I don’t know where_

_The long time I am alive  
see a kingdom grow and strive  
I have things I have to do  
each one that I would rue _

_That I never would do  
I would make chaos ensue  
I just want to be free  
as I could possibly be_

_I’m sweet little Lemonhope  
I was treated like I was a pope  
but I feel like that was a joke_

_To bring me to the end of my rope_

With each strum and hum he ensnared his audience. With every lyric they would go deeper into his spell of empathy and feel the weight of their lives fade away. All that mattered was sweet little Lemonhope and his harp which he strummed with his heart. Not a single soul dared to interrupt him, and the very building seemed to move in rhythm with his tune. When Lemonhope finished there was a rustling applause which would have be heard across the entire town if it were hands clapping. Lemonhope took a bow and jumped off of the table in order to make his way to the owner. Lemonhope needed not even say a word as the owner gave him a nod of their head and told Lemonhope where his room was.

As Lemonhope sat there making sure that his harp was still tuned, a small grass person walked up to him. “Hi, I’m Frasier,” said the little grassling. Lemonhope looked down and saw the curious character. The grass person was as tall, or rather as small as Lemonhope and had a head with a much larger point than the other grass people. Lemonhope hopped down and gave the grass person a proper and firm handshake. “I’m Lemonhope,” he said.   
“Yea, I heard in your song,” said Frasier. “I think what you sang about is pretty cool.”  
“Oh thank you,” said Lemonhope as he began to blush.  
“Can I join you on your adventures? I know all sorts of cool locations that I’ve always wanted to go to, and I’m sure that you would love to go there. My grandpa used to tell me stories of the world long ago and of monsters that would haunt the streets and so many other cool things!”  
“Are you sure you’re ready for an adventure far away from your home?”  
“Yea totally! Just say the word and I’ll have your back covered. I know all sorts of tips and tricks to beating bandits and such, I could be very helpful.”  
“Well, your free to join me if you want”  
A flare went off in Frasier ’s eyes and he did a little dance where he stood. When he was finally done, he turned to Lemonhope with a big smile on his face. “So, what will we do first?” he asked while hopping on the spot. Lemonhope looked into the distance for a minute and then back to Frasier. “Since you know so many places,” said Lemonhope. “You can tell me where we should go.”  
Frasier seemed nearly fit to burst with excitement. “I know exactly the place we should go! We should go to Casino City. I heard you can make loads of treasure there without having to work even a day.”  
Lemonhope contemplated this. He knew well enough that he needed more money and couldn’t just play his harp in order to get out of every situation, so going to get some money from gambling would be a pretty good strategy. After all, he did play and win a few games of poker against Phlannel back when he was on the cloud so it should be easy enough.

“Let’s do that,” said Lemonhope shaking his head affirmingly. Frasier gave out a little squeal and hopped around a bit. “When will we go there?” asked Frasier.  
“Tomorrow,” replied Lemonhope. “I’ve had enough excitement for today and need a rest.”  
Frasier seemed to deflate when he heard this. Before Frasier could protest Lemonhope’s decision, Lemonhope was already heading off to bed. Frasier kicked at the ground but stubbed it against a stool. He let out a whimper and wobbled his way up to his own room.

If anything was going to happen, it was going to be tomorrow whether Frasier liked that or not.


	2. Journey to Greed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lemonhope and Frasier begin their journey to Casino City, but what challenges might they face on their way there?

It was early in the morning when Lemonhope heard a knock on his door. He looked at the grass clock on the wall and struggled for a moment to read the time. It was the early hour of seven in the morning. Lemonhope let out a groan and shot the door a menacing look. He wasn’t going to wake up this early in the morning. Just as his eyes started to feel heavy again there was another, more rapid, knock on the door. With a final groan which grew into a yawn he stood up and groggily made his way to the door giving an annoyed “Coming!” as he did so. He was still in his clothes from yesterday as he couldn’t find a shower in the building.

When he reached the door and started to turn the nob there was another knock, or rather it sounded like the door was vibrating at this point. With a newfound fury Lemonhope opened the door with a blazing speed causing Frasier to stumble forward. “Why in Glob’s name did you wake me up this early?” asked Lemonhope with venom seeping from every word.  
“Early?” replied Frasier. “The whole town has been up and running for a few hours now. We can’t possibly miss the morning dew.”  
Lemonhope wiped some gunk out of his eye looked outside of the window. Frasier wasn’t lying, the whole town was already awake. He could see a market square set up not too far from the Inn and saw lots of grass people going around doing their business. He turned back to Frasier and with a slightly less sour tone said, “Well, I’m not made of grass, am I?”

“That’s why I waited so long to wake you up, lemonhead,” said Frasier in a mocking tone. “Anyways, let’s hit the road as soon as we can, I want to catch some extra dew.”  
Lemonhope made his way downstairs and found many of the same people there as there were last night. Instead of being met with suspicious stares, he was met with a comforting indifference. He took a seat at the table where he performed last night. Frasier quickly took a seat beside him. He propped up his head on the table with both his arms looking at Lemonhope. “So, what are you gonna have for breakfast?” asked Fraiser.  
“I dunno,” replied Lemonhope. “What is there to eat?”  
“Oh, well there’s Dew on the Rocks, Mineral Delight, Clod Sandwich and a few others.”

Lemonhope wasn’t in the mood to eat dirt or drink some morning dew. He thought to what he had in his backpack for food and remembered that he already ate every little scrap he had on the way to the grass town. Just thinking of dirt in his mouth made him throw up a little. “I think I’ll pass up on breakfast,” said Lemonhope. He was met with protests from his stomach. Frasier looked disappointed at his new friend’s lack of hunger. “Ah well,” sighed Frasier. “I guess this means more time on the road then!”

Frasier jumped up and ran to the door. He ran on the spot and looked to Lemonhope. As soon as Lemonhope stood up from the table and made his way to the door, Frasier zipped out the door but could still be heard tip tapping his feet from running in one spot. Lemonhope was finally feeling a little more awake from all the excitement. Lemonhope found Frasier waiting for him outside, if you could even call it waiting, and looked to the horizon. The sun hung low and was being filtered by the low hanging leaves of trees. A grass person passed them and greeted Frasier, but he was too busy waiting for Lemonhope to respond to the grass person.

“So which way is this Casino City?” asked Lemonhope.  
Frasier seemed to stand still for just a second as he tried to remember what his grandfather told him of the grand place. “It should be to the north of our town,” said Frasier and went back to hopping up and down.  
“Nice,” was all Lemonhope said. He turned to look for the nearest northern path and saw one that led into a thick treeline. “Are you ready to go?” asked Lemonhope.  
Frasier stood in salute. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” said Frasier.  
Lemonhope wondered for a second why he even bothered asking. With the indication of his hand, the two began to make their way to their gambling paradise.

Lemonhope was on the lookout for anything that looked like food. All that the grass people seemed to have really was just dirt and water. When he turned his eyes back to the road, he saw that Frasier ran up ahead a bit. He was taking dew from the grass and rubbing it all over himself. Frasier noticed Lemonhope staring at him and his blades became a shade of red. “Oh, sorry,” he said. “Does this bother you?”  
“No, no,” replied Lemonhope. “It’s just that I’ve never seen grass people take a shower and it looks a little strange to me.”  
“It isn’t like that,” said Frasier now losing his blush. “I’m busy eating. It’s totally different from washing myself.”  
“I don’t know whether that’s better or worse.”

When they approached the forest, they noticed that the grass around the road grew as tall as they were. The trees of the forest made such a thick canopy that the forest seemed to be nearly black on the inside. The two could hear less birds than before and as they came closer to the forest, the sounds of the birds seemed to be fading away. “Have you ever been in the forest yourself, Frasier?” asked Lemonhope.  
Frasier shook his head. “No, I was always warned that bandits live in the forest and that little grasslings like me make a very tasty meal for bandits,” said Frasier.  
“I’m not so sure about the last part, but I don’t think we’ll run into any bandits. We don’t have anything valuable between us, I think.”  
Frasier nodded, but seemed to have a shiver run down his spine. “I know what can make this less scary,” said Lemonhope.  
He took out his harp and started playing a tune.

_On the road again  
we make our way to into our future_

_On the road again  
we will make memories together _

_we’ll go and make some money  
All our troubles will seem funny  
by finding a good story  
that could be a little gory_

_But in the end we will have an adventure  
But in the end it will be a cool venture  
But in the end we will be together  
But in the end it will be our endeavour_

_On the road again_

_  
_ The dark forest didn’t seem so menacing anymore to the two and they were sure they could see a ray of light shining through the trees. They made their merry way through the forest without a care in the world until they noticed that the light was following them. They stopped dead in their tracks and listened closely for any sounds in the forest. Just as they thought they were imagining things they heard a rustle come from where they saw the light. Lemonhope reached for the flute but found that he didn’t have it. He forgot that he gave the flute back to Fin when they last met and was now left defenceless.

Two bandits jumped from the grass unto the road behind Frasier and Lemonhope. Lemonhope began to panic but Frasier was completely calm. The bandits were wearing torn and tattered clothes and had socks with holes cut in them on their heads. They both had daggers and bags in their hands. “Give us all the money you got,” said the taller of the two bandits.  
“Yea, and give us that little harp too,” said the shorter one.  
Lemonhope’s knees were shaking but Frasier was calm and standing completely still. “Y-you can have it,” stuttered Lemonhope.  
“If you can pry it from our cold dead hands!” cried Frasier.

Frasier lifted his arms into the air and the grass all around the road seemed to rise with it. The grass seemed to be pulsating and whipping out blades towards the bandits. The bandits faltered in their imposing stance and looked wildly at all the tall grass around them. Frasier then thrust his arms forward and the grass bent to his will, shooting towards the bandits at lightning speed. The bandits tried to run away, but the grass caught up to them and wrapped around their ankles like snakes slithering up a tree. They tried to rip the grass off themselves but found that every blade of grass that they removed was replaced by two more. After a short moment the bandits were dragged closer and the grass climbed up further the bandit’s legs. The speed at which the grass consumed the bandits was getting faster and faster no matter how much they struggled. A few seconds of struggling later and the bandits were fully wrapped in a thick layer of grass which wove itself together into a rock-hard surface across them. All that could be seen of the bandits were their noses and all that could be heard were faint whimpers coming from inside their cocoons.

Once the grass was finished Frasier lowered his arms and stoop up straight puffing out his chest. Lemonhope looked at the bandits and them back to Frasier with his mouth agape. “Not bad, eh?” asked Frasier the shocked Lemonhope. Lemonhope never thought that this little grass person could be so powerfull. “I might have misjudged you,” said Lemonhope giving Frasier a pat on the back. “Let’s get out of here before more goons show up.”  
With that they walked swiftly through the forest.

By the time that the two made it through to the other side of the forest they found that night had already fallen. They climbed up a hill to the side of the road and set up camp for themselves. Lemonhope at last lured something edible to him which he roasted over a fire and Frasier went about picking up clumps of dirt. They each feasted in silence enjoying the meals that they made for themselves while being a little disgusted at the others choice of food. Soon the fire died down and the two began to get ready for bed and gazed up to the stars above.

“Do you think that we are really free?” asked Frasier.  
“What do you mean?” replied Lemonhope.  
“I dunno really. I just have this feeling that there is a chance that we don’t really have a choice as to what we do.”  
Lemonhope turned his vision from the stars to Frasier in an attempt to better understand him. “Maybe we’re all just puppets to the grand cosmos,” continued Frasier. “Destiny dictates what we do, and Destiny already planned out what we will do. Every time we make a decision Destiny decides for us. So, can we really be free in our quest for freedom when the quest was already down on paper? When the book has already been written is the end still uncertain? If this is true, we can blame someone, or some concept, for what’s happening to us. If someone wanted you to hurt, then you can blame them, but if the world wants you to hurt do you blame the world? Do you blame a god? Do you blame yourself? We say that our decisions make us, so if fate decides our decisions for us, can you even blame it, therefore blaming yourself again?”

“I think that, even if everything has been decided for us, we can still relish in the illusion of choice and the feelings that it gives us”

Lemonhope turned back to the stars. His friend’s thoughts pained him. It went against everything he believed and wanted to believe. A comet streaked across the sky and he saw an opportunity. “That comet is amazing,” he said.

“Sure is,” replied his friend.

“What if we could go to space?”

“What would there even be to explore?”

“The stars, I think. I heard from the princess that they are giant balls of burning gas and that big spheres of rock and gas rotate around it. Spheres called planets and that can be like our own.”

“That sounds a bit outlandish doesn’t it?”

“As outlandish as the idea that the stars are merely holes poked into a veil of darkness that falls over Ooo when night comes.”

“But that’s how it is!” Frasier said and sat up to properly look at his friend.

“Is it?”

The rest of the night was spent in silence, each of them contemplating their own thoughts and their friend’s. They both drifted off into uneasy sleeps being plagued by rogue thoughts giving them unpleasant dreams.


	3. The Land of Gambling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lemonhope and Frasier are finally in Casino City, and a world of riches open up to them. What wonderful ways will they find to gamble, and what wonderful ways will they find to lose money?

They set out for Casino City early the next day, not wanting to linger on the thoughts of the previous night. They could already see the monolithic city an hour into their walk and were enveloped by its shadow within minutes. It looked like a solid black block of concrete at the bottom with spires of gold rising from it. As soon as they reached it, they were stopped by a duo of buff men dressed sharply in tuxedos and wearing pitch black shades. The mundane wall stretched behind them into the sky and to the distance left and right.

“ID?” the one to the left grunted.

“Uh, we don’t have that,” said Lemonhope.

“Follow me,” grunted the other one.

They were led to a small box with a large machine next to it outside the city walls. The box was open on the one side and was painted completely white. The machine next to it looked like a hunched over beast. Metal rods that had multiple joints, sprouted from a large console lined with buttons, switches, and knobs, and bowed over the top of the machine. The sharp tips of the rods were hovering over a large sheet of white plastic. The sheet stretched off to the side and lead into a small slit in the wall of the city while being supported by a few tables. A camera was mounted to the side of the machine that had a flat tube leading from its bottom into the forest of metal limbs.

“Stand in the box,” the guard instructed Lemonhope. As soon as Lemonhope was stood in the box and turned to face the guard there was a flash of light. After being blinded for a few seconds and rubbing his eyes, Lemonhope saw the guard was busy at the machine pressing buttons and twisting nobs. Frasier was fidgeting at the side looking at the two. “When were you born?” asked the guard.

Lemonhope hesitated for a second. “18 years ago?” he said with a wavering voice.

The guard didn’t seem to question it and worked away at the console asking Lemonhope questions such as what his name was, where he was born and what gender he was.

Once all the questions were asked, the guard pressed one last button and the machine came to life. The arms moved back and forth, creating a blur of mechanical limbs and producing the sound of sharp metal moving against itself. After a few seconds of this the machine stopped and the plastic sheet was pushed further out of the city wall. As the sheet emerged, crumbs of the plastic fell into a bin next to the machine which Lemonhope only noticed now as a small card came out of it.

The guard snapped it off with ease and gave it to Lemonhope. The card had a terrible picture of Lemonhope and all the details that he told the guard. “Next,” grunted the guard in Frasier’s general direction. After the same process and a photo just as terrible as Lemonhope’s, Frasier also had an ID card.

They were both escorted back to the entrance where they showed the other guard their cards and were finally allowed to come in. The monolithic wall swallowed them, and the inner gate swung open to reveal the city to them. Even though it was in the middle of the day, the streets seemed to be lit by the neon lights of the city. Buildings branded with the words ‘Casino’, ‘Go Big’ and ‘Money’ scraped the sky and had constant streams of people coming in and out of them. Signs were everywhere directing you to the nearest spot to spend your money and the occasional bathroom.

It was nearly blinding to look at certain parts of the city, and when you looked away you saw words encouraging you to gamble when you blinked. All this was a little overwhelming for the duo and they were surprised when someone tried to grab their attention. It was a short and frail man who was dressed in the same tuxedo and shades as the guards outside. He beckoned them to come closer to the booth he was sitting in. The booth had metal bars and a thick layer of glass lining its open side. There was a small tray under the window which slid out when Frasier and Lemonhope approached the booth. “Please insert in the amount of money which you wish to convert to Gallucci-coins,” squawked the man.

Lemonhope looked towards Frasier who pulled out a pile of leaves with writing on them. “Are these good here?” asked Frasier, being a little uncertain never having bought something outside of his own town before.  
“Any currency is valid here as long as comes from a recognised city,” croaked the man his reply.  
With that conformation, Frasier enthusiastically put his money in the container. It slid closed and the tray poked out at the inside of the booth. As the man behind the counter began to convert the money to Gallucci-coins, Lemonhope questioned his friend, “So what money am I going to gamble with?”  
“We’re going to gamble together!” replied his friend with a smile.

The tray slid back out and was loaded with small plastic coins which had the same face plastered all over them and different numbers along the sides. When Frasier saw this, it looked like he started bouncing without even leaving the floor. His bopping became faster with each scoop of the coins into Lemonhope’s bag and he seemed to be about to launch when he asked his friend a simple question. “Where are we going to spend this first?”

This question seemed easy at first, but as Lemonhope’s eyes passed over several buildings which looked exactly the same and were all situated next to each other, he found the question to be as complex as the equation to Life, The Universe and Everything. At last he made a choice when Frasier began poking him. He settled on a casino which had the sign ‘Fun Gambling for Money’. He didn’t know if it was any different to the casino right next to it, ‘A Funny Gamble for Money’, but didn’t care at this stage as he feared what would happen if Frasier kept rapid-fire poking his arm. “Let’s go to this one,” was all he had to utter in order to make Frasier stop.

After making their way across the crowded plaza and avoiding a few hopeless souls, they entered a casino for the first time of their lives. It was a beautiful sight to any who were addicted to gambling and would make anyone looking at it become addicted to gambling themselves. To the right were a near infinite amount of slot machines, each adorned with a layer of gold with the levers having big diamonds for knobs. Nearly all of the machines were taken, but if you looked for a spot you would find one immediately. They all boasted big jackpots and it was a near constant whirr of wheels if you got close.

To the opposite side were a more diverse selection of games, ranging from packed tables of blackjack to tables filled with people wearing pitch black shades playing poker. Lemonhope looked to Frasier with a smirk on his face. “Time to make some money,” was all he had to say and they both dashed towards the nearest table. It was a game of solitaire and the last player just left as he lost most of his money. Frasier and Lemonhope were luckily familiar with solitaire, with it being one of the few casino games played casually outside of the casinos. The table had the words ‘Opening bet is 20 G-Coins’ printed on them and they both took out 20 Gallucci-Coins each to put on the table. The tabled was manned by a plain looking woman in the same clothes as the rest of the staff and had a serious expression on her face. “Only one player at a time at this table,” she said with an accent you would associate with a cowboy.

Lemonhope felt a little glum when he was told this as he didn’t want to leave the solitaire table. Frasier saw this and quickly went in to comfort his friend. “Don’t worry, I’ll find a different table to play at. There are loads of games to play here!” said Frasier.  
Lemonhope perked up at this and nodded his head. “Ok, thanks. Take the bag with you as well; I don’t think I’ll be losing any money,” he said with a smirk and a wink.  
Frasier gave a little hop and dashed off into the casino on his own.

Lemonhope turned back to the dealer and saw that she already begun dealing out his cards. Her movements were a blur as her practiced hands moved seamlessly across the table placing each card with pinpoint precision and without falter. When she was done Lemonhope felt a little dizzy, and he continued to feel dizzy as he played, forgetting how hard the game could be. Just as he would make a move the dealer told him that he couldn’t, and then he would be lost as what to do next. He had a vague notion that time was flying by as he played, but he payed no attention to any of the stares he would get or impatient people waiting for him to finish and then walking off to another table. His head was in his hands as he tried to think where the final piece could be which would let him take the game by storm, but always felt that it was just out of reach. Close enough to get, but never truly there.

In that moment he had a revelation. He knew exactly how to win and would be able to do so in three moves. He declared his first move and was met with an apathetic, “Sorry, you have run out of moves,” from the dealer. He sank in his seat and stared off into some faraway distance. Did he really suck this much at solitaire? Or was the game really that hard? However, his deep depression was quickly washed away with the presence of Frasier. At first, he noticed that Frasier was in his usual high spirits, but then saw that the bag full of coins nearly doubled in size. Frasier had a stupid grin plastered across his face and held the bag up high for his friend to see.

“Look at what I got!” sang Frasier who started waiving the bag back and forth.   
“Woa, how did you get so much?” asked Lemonhope, absolutely astonished.  
Frasier leaned in close and looked around quickly. “I used every trick in the book that my grandad taught me,” whispered Frasier.  
“You cheated!” gasped Lemonhope.  
“Not so loud!” Frasier scream-whispered. “Or they’ll hear…”  
“You cheated?” Lemonhope repeated, but this time in a whisper as well.  
“I guess you could call it that, but casino’s already cheat _you_ out of your money. So why not even the playing field? Besides, it’s loads of cash and we’ll be set for a long time after this.”  
“But it’s wrong!” protested Lemonhope in a somewhat hopeless tone.  
“What are we gonna do, give it back to them and say sorry?” Frasier mocked.  
“Yes?” said Lemonhope hopefully.  
Frasier slapped his forehead and slowly dragged his hand down his face. “No, you dum-dum,” said Frasier. “We get out of here before anybody notices!”

Lemonhope was at a loss for words. He never stole before, except when he did, and that was for his own survival. Could he consider this journey his own survival as well? Could he really stoop so low as to cheat at a game of chance in order to get some easy money? He was low on money. He had none of it, in fact. A harp wont always get you a bed, and where would you sleep then? In a dark ditch in the middle of a desert, that’s where. He knew as much from his experiences that no money could be hard and pure adventure didn’t always work out. He looked at Frasier with a stern look in his eye. “Ok, we’ll do this once, but never again. Do you understand me?” he said as he wagged and pointed his finger at Frasier.  
“Alright,” said Frasier sheepishly and kicked at the carpet.  
“Let’s get out of here then,” said Lemonhope, causing Frasier to get back all of his joy.

The two walked back out into the plaza and began to navigate towards the exit but were having a hard time doing so. Little did they notice that two suited men with pitch black shades were following them not too close behind…  
  



	4. A Turn for the Worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lemonhope and Frasier get beat up.

Lemonhope had no idea where they were going. They had been walking for a long time with no entrance in sight. There was no clear indication as to where the exit was, and the only kind of indication that was visible were signs directing them deeper into the city towards more casinos. Frasier had gotten impatient long ago and had been complaining ever since.

“All we had to do was go back the way we came,” moaned Frasier.  
“It’s not that simple,” replied Lemonhope in a frustrated tone. He was infuriated by the counterintuitive design of the city and incidentally was taking some of his anger out on Frasier. As Lemonhope scanned the area and the crowd he noticed a pathway that seemed to have less people going in and out of it. “There!” he said as he pointed. All the people that the duo had tried asking for directions either ignored them or said that “There is no way out of Casino City” so a pathway with few people seemed at least a little promising. There were less lights as well which meant that less casinos were being advertised there.

After making their way through the thick moving crowd they entered the slightly hidden pathway. “This doesn’t look too familiar,” muttered Lemonhope.  
“Isn’t that a good thing?” asked Frasier.   
“Not if we’re trying to find the way that we came from”  
The bag full of coins was beginning to feel like a bag full of concrete for Frasier and he set it down for a second to catch his breath. Lemonhope continued forward a bit as Frasier bent over his knees taking deep breaths. When Frasier looked back up, he saw something that caught his eye. “Hey Lemonhope,” he called out. “The sign here says that we’re going down a dead end.”  
“A dead what?” replied Lemonhope as he turned around.

Just as he did so he saw two burly guards standing behind Frasier in their uniform tuxedos and shades. At first he thought that they saw Frasier and himself struggling to find the way out and were going to help them, but when he saw the one guard wind up his leg for a kick, he knew that they were in trouble. “Frasier, look out!” he managed to shout out just before the guard’s mighty boot dug itself into Frasier’s back, sending the poor grassling flying towards him. If Frasier had any bones, the hit would have emitted loud crunching noises from the force of the kick.

Frasier skidded to a painful stop next to Lemonhope but was back on his feet as soon as the guards began advancing towards them. The alley seemed awfully narrow now as the two guard’s frames together took up the entire space towards the way out. “W-what do you want from us?” stuttered Lemonhope as his entire mind was taken with fear. He thought for a second that they were after the money, but as the one guard drove his foot through the bag of coins while walking as if it wasn’t even there, he realised that they wouldn’t be so easy to get rid of. “We don’t allow cheaters in Casino City,” grunted the guards in unison.

Lemonhope would have scolded his friend if it weren’t for the dire situation and instead looked towards Frasier for some kind of help. Frasier was standing at an odd angle and there was a dent in his back. Some green sap came out of his mouth as he spoke, and his voice sounded hoarse as he fought against the pain. “Stay away, we did nothing wrong!” he barked out.   
Lemonhope noticed that Frasier was making strange gestures with his hands as he stood his ground. “Gallucci hears all,” announced the one guard.  
“And sees all,” announced the second.  
“He knows all, and he does not like what you did,” they said in unison.

Frasier was frantically moving his hands around at this point and whispered to Lemonhope without breaking eye contact with the guards, “I can’t find any plants nearby, so I need you to do something before we get clobbered!”  
Lemonhope seemed to awaken from a deep frightened slumber and scrambled to get his harp out. As soon as he had it in his hands, be began to play the sweetest tune he has ever produced. It was so sweet that it would make a wolf fall in love with its prey, and that it would make sugar jealous. But nothing happened. The guards were unaffected as if they weren’t even hearing the music. Lemonhope panicked and switched over to a different melody, and then another. None of them had any effect and the guards just crept closer with their every step being in unison.

The last thing that both Lemonhope and Frasier saw were the guards standing above them with their fists raised high above their heads.

***

Lemonhope was rudely awoken by a splash of water and a slap through the face. At first his surroundings were blurry but came into a painful focus a few seconds later. He found himself low to the ground in a gorgeous room. The walls were adorned with paintings depicting people gambling in little to no clothes in eloquent positions, looking in some far-off directions on the large, exaggerated tables. His eyes were then drawn in front of him towards the back of the room which had a large oval window. In front of the window sat a large desk with an even larger man behind it. He had a sickly grin on his face which seemed to be hiding a snarl. His tuxedo barely fit him and gushed over the table. Next to his belly on the table were stacks of paper and desk toys and a row of buttons.

Lemonhope tried to stand up on the red velvet carpet but found an immense pressure on his shoulders. When he looked up, he found the figure of a guard looming over him. At that moment he remembered Frasier and looked around for him. He quickly found his friend bent over to his right; his head bent down with a dent visible on it. Frasier was then hit with a splash of water from a bucket held by the guard behind him and his waking self was met with a swift hit to the back of the head.

Frasier went from drowsy to awake in an instant. “I see the two of yous thieves are finally awake,” said the large man. “The name’s Gallucci. I own this joint. Now I heard that you twos have been making trouble in my town. Haven’t you heard that stealing is wrong?”  
Lemonhope tried to speak but was interrupted by Gallucci. “I bet your mommas never taught you that. Mine was strict, but I love her for that. She’s the reason I’m here, y’know? Anyways, do you bozos even know what happens to rulebreakers?”  
Both Frasier and Lemonhope shook their heads never having heard of any rules. “They become worthless!” Gallucci shouted and slammed his fist on the table. His ingenuine smile vanished for a second and was replaced by a vicious snarl.

After a quiet moment Gallucci composed himself. His ‘smile’ returned, and he stared at the duo. “Are you going to kill us?” asked Lemonhope. His voice was almost a whisper as his seating arrangement’s discomfort added to his fear. “Never!” replied Gallucci with a hearty laugh. His laugh suddenly stopped, and he gained a serious expression. “You belong to Casino City now,” was all he said before he snapped his fingers. His guards went into action and dragged Lemonhope and Frasier near the front of the desk. “I need some more employees you know,” whispered Gallucci. “But I don’t think that the two of you will work for me willingly. I have a special… program that I show my new employees to convince them that the job is great. Nobody has said no so far.”

“You’re going to brainwash us!” Frasier shrieked out in horror. He began to struggle fiercely and got a kick in the back for his troubles. The dent in his back seemed to become a little deeper and he stopped moving so frantically. Lemonhope was frozen. He heard of brainwashing before, but never had to face the horror of it. He liked his thoughts, and he liked to think. That’s where his music came from. That’s where his freedom lay. That’s when it dawned on him why his harp didn’t work. All the guards were brainwashed, so they had no taste for music, and with no taste they wouldn’t be charmed by his sweet tunes. If he could even make his sweet tunes after this, that is. Lemonhope felt as if he was sinking into a deep dark pit. He saw how all his future adventures vanished before his eyes and replaced with a blank space which would be occupied by another’s orders. He would always do what he was told, and he would do so until he died.

Lemonhope was shaking at this point and felt tears well up behind his eyes. He wasn’t ready to lose his life. He wasn’t ready to lose his freedom. Lemongrab taught him how much he despised captivity, but now he wouldn’t even want to escape. He lost all his strength and sagged down where he sat. However, Frasier wasn’t having any of it. He might not have been struggling anymore, but he was continuously thinking of a plan. He wouldn’t be able to break free on his own, and Lemonhope didn’t look like he was ready to be much help. He glared at Gallucci and at his imposing desk and noticed something. A plant. An ill watered and weak plant, but a plant none the less. It was a snowdrop flower that sat in an elegant flowerpot with engravings of cards on it. It seemed to sway in a non-existent wind as Frasier came up with an idea. He could manipulate the plant to wrangle the guard holding him and set himself free.

He began to work his magic but stopped for a moment. He would be free, but Lemonhope would be condemned to his fate. He couldn’t let it happen to his friend, and he found that one of the greatest tragedies in life was the death of a creative mind. He worked up all his magical strength and made the plant dance to his will. It twirled and swayed gaining the attention of Gallucci. With one swift motion, Frasier made the plant surge towards the guard holding his friend. The plant wrapped around the lumbering man’s neck and yanked him backwards, making him stumble. The man’s stumbling steps sounded like thunder and when he toppled over, he caused a boom to echo throughout the room.

“Run, Lemonhope!” Frasier shouted.   
Gallucci tried to stand up but kept falling back on his chair all the while making pig-like grunting noises. Lemonhope’s tear streaked face turned to Frasier and paused there for a second. “Go,” Frasier half whispered. He made a slight shooing motion with his hand at Lemonhope. With that final confirmation, Lemonhope stood up and begun trudging towards the door. “Stop him! Don’t let him get away!” shouted Gallucci. His guards immediately snapped into his command and began dashing towards Lemonhope.

Lemonhope was at the door now and looked back towards his friend. He saw the guards rushing towards him, Gallucci fuming and his beat-up friend giving him a weak smile. Lemonhope couldn’t leave. Not now. Even if it meant abandoning freedom, he couldn’t leave his friend. He had to do something, even if it might not work. He felt for his harp and found that he still had it. Everything seemed to slow down for Lemonhope. The running guards, Frasier’s realisation that his friend was not running away, and Gallucci screaming at the top of his lungs. And so, he strummed.

_Please hear my little prayer  
of how this is not fair  
we came here for a little joy  
and I am just a little-_

Lemonhope’s song was cut short as the one guard tackled him. He was further silenced as the other guard drove his elbow into Lemonhope’s stomach as he came down. The first guard followed that up with his fist driving into Lemonhope’s eye, which was followed by his fellow guard kicking Lemonhope repeatedly. Just as the beating escalated, a loud “Stop” was heard. Gallucci was holding up his one hand and wiping a tear from his eye in the other. The guards immediately stopped and looked towards their master. With sobs chocking his speech, Gallucci continued, “Don’t hurt him any further. I can see now it would be a waste to brainwash him. Bring that sweet little lemon boy to me.”

Frasier breathed out a sigh of relief and sagged to the ground. Lemonhope was dragged to where he was ‘seated’ earlier but wasn’t held down. “That was the greatest song that I have ever heard,” said Gallucci, wiping another tear from his eye. “I have never seen such talent and found that I will have to do something else with you.”  
Lemonhope got a glint in his eye. It seemed like his gamble had worked. Gallucci sobbed a few times before he continued. “You will now be my court jester,” said Gallucci. “The other one will still be brainwashed. Come now, Guards. Find this boy a jester outfit and send the grass-thing to the dungeons. I have something special planned for the green one now as well.”

Frasier sat up. He tried to move the plant again but found all his strength was sapped. He tried to jump at Gallucci but was grabbed by the one guard before he could do so. Lemonhope stared at Gallucci in disbelief, and then towards his friend that was being taken to some awful cell. Where did he go wrong? Once Frasier was out of the room and his screaming could no longer be heard, Gallucci turned his gaze towards Lemonhope. “Now,” he said in a sickly tone. “Play me a tune.”


	5. And All is Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lemonhope is a Jester, Frasier has been brainwashed, and there seems to be no way out for the two. Will they live out the rest of their lives in this misery?

It was the day after Frasier and Lemonhope were taken captive. Lemonhope was currently stood in Gallucci’s office being fitted for his ‘singing clothes’. He had not gotten a lot of sleep the last night as he was kept up by Gallucci requesting song after song. The last he sung was a lullaby in an effort to get Gallucci to fall asleep. Thankfully, it worked.

It was as the people measuring Lemonhope finished their work and were packing up that Gallucci entered his office. For a moment he thought it was Lemongrab in the room, but Gallucci’s strong accent reminded him of where he was. “My singing Lemonboy,” said Gallucci. “Your friend is about to join the crew. I thought that it would be best for you to see it with your own eyes. Y’know, in order to set it straight how things go around here.”  
Lemonhope felt a shot of excitement go through him for a second before he realised what it meant. He was to go see his friend join the ranks of Gallucci’s mindless servants.

Before Lemonhope could even consider following Gallucci, he felt a shove from behind. The same person who was measuring him a few seconds before now loomed over him ready to make him do as Gallucci commanded. Lemonhope quickly began following Gallucci through a maze of corridors, each adorned with golden patterns and reminders of the wealth of gambling. Soon the halls became less decorated, and after that became bare, with rotting bricks showing. The bricks gave away to a solid slick stone. There were no more electric lights hanging from the ceiling, but instead there were torches mounted in ancient metal sconces.

From that point onwards Lemonhope could hear the howls of sorrow. Cheaters and assorted damned could be heard wallowing their lost freedom and what were to come for them. Lemonhope could now see the cells and found each to contain the image of truly broken men and women. Their clothes were tattered and their hair untrimmed. He was reminded of the dark days in Lemongrab’s dungeon as he passed them. A few looked up with brief expressions of hope on their faces, while others were not stirred. As they went deeper, Lemonhope saw the clothes become worse and the people seemingly rotting away. A few had plates with scraps in them. The plates sat in one corner and the person in the other. Lemonhope entered the area of the prison where it became hard to tell if the people in the cells were dead or alive. He spotted an open cell ahead and two guards standing in front of it.

As he passed it, he noticed a third guard trying to resuscitate a person. At the top of the open gate hung a rope made out of bedsheets with a noose on the end. Lemonhope quickly averted his eyes and felt dark thoughts for Frasier creep in. Those thoughts were struck away when he saw the next few cells. They were packed with exercising equipment and racks of food. In each cell were prisoners in different states of buffness and were being monitored by their own personal guard. 

After a short walk past the grunt filled cages the hall opened up to a chamber. In the centre was a throne made out of a smooth and polished stone. It was decorated in circles and angular lines leading into the floor. The lines seemed to spread from the throne across the floor and then came together to climb up a pedestal that stood in front of the throne. On top of the pedestal was the raised outline of a hand, inviting you to place your palm on top.

Frasier stood next to the throne and was held by a guard. He looked worse for wear but seemed to get a small smile when he saw Lemonhope. “We had to move a few prisoners around to put him up next, otherwise we would have waited about a year to put him through,” Gallucci said as if he was an old colleague of Lemonhope explaining some mundane activity. “We only do this for special prisoners, and I would say that the two of you are exceptional.”  
Gallucci gave the guard next to Frasier a nod. The guard immediately picked up Frasier and thrusted him on the throne.

Frasier gave the guard a menacing gaze and looked back towards Lemonhope. “Don’t you worry, Lemonhope,” said Frasier. “We’ll get through this, I’m sure of it.”  
Frasier’s voice was soft and wavering. It seemed like he was reassuring himself more than Lemonhope. Gallucci approached the pedestal and place his hand firmly on the outline. His palm seemed to pour over the print, but his press was registered none the less. A blue light began to shine in the room. The throne seemed to be glowing the same blue hue, however it did not seem to be the source of the light. All Frasier’s movement stopped, and he seemed to be frozen. His eyes were locked with Lemonhope’s. He seemed to be shaking but only slightly. Frasier was trying to say something, but all that came out were stuttering m’s.

Then his shaking subsided. His incomplete words fell silent. His determined expression fell away. He seemed to relax, and a fog rolled over his eyes. The blue light subsided and Gallucci approached Frasier. Gallucci whispered some sacred words to Frasier and the fog lifted from Frasier’s eyes. Frasier then stood up and stood in line with the other guard. Frasier was gone, and all that was left was an empty husk which now joined the ranks of Gallucci’s guard. “Another joins the family!” exclaimed Gallucci. He raised his arms in triumph and turned to Lemonhope.

“I am certain that he will make an excellent addition to my guard, don’t you think?” he questioned the quivering lemon. “I always wanted to have some music to accommodate this occasion, and now we have you. How about you sing us a song?”  
But Lemonhope couldn’t sing a song. All he could think of doing was to scream. His friend was gone, and his life set before him would end in a forced tune. He stood there in silence, staring at the little green husk. “Well, are you going to play?” asked Gallucci, now annoyed. But Gallucci wasn’t met with a sudden change in spirit. Instead, he was met with a faint groan from Lemonhope before Lemonhope collapsed on the floor. “We’ll work on it later then,” he said.

***

_Sweet little Lemonhope  
Stuck in a lemontrope_

_My sweet little lemonstrife  
Will last until the end of my life_

Lemonhope sung his sad tune and did a little dance to go with it. The bells of his jester hat chimed to the rhythm of his words and the bells on his pointed shoes provided a monotone beat. Lemonhope struggled to tap his left foot as it was shackled to Gallucci’s desk. He also found the whole striped jester outfit to be a bit tacky with its reds and blues. He tried complaining once but was met with an unsympathetic fist and a request to continue playing. His ruff stood slightly askew after that.

The non-stop playing for the last few days was beginning to get to his voice and he could tell that his voice would be gone by the weekend. Not that the weekend would come quickly, however. His time as a jester was painfully slow and punctuated with the reminder of Frasier’s lost mind every time he saw his brain-washed friend. He doubted that he would ever forget when he was forced to watch Frasier have his mind erased. But he didn’t have much time to think as Gallucci demanded a happier song to be played next. He was currently politely talking to a thief that was caught trying to steal one of the countless neon lights. Lemonhope thought at times that he might have lost his mind as well, but his constant anger that he felt towards Gallucci reminded him otherwise. His pointless existence made him sometimes forget what the time was or how it passed. He only knew that he was there for only a few days as Gallucci was constantly reminding him by telling his guests how long he has had his jester for.

For the first time in what felt an eternity, Gallucci told Lemonhope to stop playing music. “Today is one of the few days which I get a day off,” stated Gallucci.   
Lemonhope gave a sigh of relief. “That doesn’t mean that you get a day off,” scolded Gallucci. “We’ll be moving to my personal garden for the rest of the day, and I will need some music to make my rest even more soothing. Bring him now.”

A guard removed the end of Lemonhope’s chain connected to the desk and began dragging him by his foot. Lemonhope almost toppled over, but quickly hopped into an appropriate walking pace. He was led to the back of Gallucci’s office next to the large window where Gallucci stood in front of a blank wall. As blank as a wall adorned with gold could get. With a swift movement, which was rare for Gallucci, Gallucci pressed on the wall at a certain spot and it was revealed that it was a hidden door. It soundlessly swung open to reveal an atrium of an enormous magnitude. It was filled to the brim with plants and seemed to stretch off into forever. Once they stepped inside it felt like they were in the depths of a beautiful tropical jungle, with spots of glass visible where the city lay on the other side. A small pathway winded into the depths and disappeared behind a rose bush. Lemonhope was led down the path until they came across a stone bench with intricate patterns carved in it. Lemonhope was shackled to one of the legs and Gallucci plopped down unto the bench.

Lemonhope expected something to break, but the bench stood strong. “Go on,” urged Gallucci. “Play something about plants.”  
Lemonhope began his tune and tried to subtly convey to Gallucci that he was thirsty. When the song was over Gallucci slightly shifted in his seat. “Man, I could go for a stiff drink right now,” he said without giving Lemonhope a second glance. He pressed a button that was excellently hidden amongst the patterns of the bench and a faint buzzing could be heard. Lemonhope took a dry gulp of nothing and began with another song. During the third verse came the servant who would serve Gallucci his drink. It was Frasier, and he was carrying a martini in a plate which looked comically large compared to himself.

Frasier walked at a steady upright pace. You would have been able to balance a tower of books on his head with how disciplined his stride was. Lemonhope expected his friend to give a smirk, but Frasier only did as he was told. He stood next to Gallucci and raised the plate for Gallucci to take his drink. Lemonhope’s song trailed off as he stared at the vacant shell that he called his friend. Guilt struck him, followed by sorrow. He led them to this wretched place, and he let it all get out of hand as it did. He felt compelled to play a song, even if he knew the one who it was intended for would never hear it.

_Near and far  
close and wide  
where we go  
you’ll decide  
my friend_

_My dearest friend_

_A pact of freedom  
we made  
so together  
we stayed  
just until the end  
oh, the great and endless end_

_My dearest friend_

_Somewhere inside  
that’s where you hide  
just break the curse  
that will fill a purse  
with servitude_

_Where is your attitude?_

_Near and far  
close and wide  
when we used to go  
you did decide  
my friend_

_Where are you my friend?_

Lemonhope lingered on the last note for a second and stared deep into Frasier’s blank eyes. There was no response from him. Lemonhope searched for a sign that his friend was there, but none came. None would ever come, surmised Lemonhope. His friend was gone, he was back to where he began, and has found that a fondness for music is worse than a hatred for it. Lemonhope felt all his strength leave his legs and he fell down. Sour lemon-tears fell down his face as he thought of all he went through to get here. Gallucci was now shouting at Lemonhope and making weak attempts at kicking him with his chubby leg. Lemonhope had lost all hope. He was nothing but a sour lemon with no ambition and no desire to continue.

He then felt something brush his hand. He thought that it was merely a false feeling of hope trying to claw out of him, but when he felt it again, he looked at what it could be. He saw through his eyes a blurry green line run across his hand. When he wiped the tears away, he saw that it was a vine of some sort, crawling up his hand. He looked up toward Frasier. His appearance of his friend was met with a deafening crash as the garden came to life. “W-what in tarnation?” was all Gallucci could stammer before he was lifted by a barrage of snowdrop flowers. The stems of the plants wrapped around Gallucci’s limbs and he was held up in a spread-eagle position. Frasier now took off his shades and threw them to the ground.

“You’re gonna pay for what you did,” snarled Frasier. The plants raised Gallucci higher and the vines became taught. They then pulled even tighter, threatening to pull Gallucci apart. “Guards! Guards! Somebody hel-” shouted Gallucci before a bundle of flowers were shoved into his mouth. Frasier then lifted a barrage of vines with sharp ends. One after another the vines stuck themselves into Gallucci with incredible speed. Each vine penetrating Gallucci caused him to scream out in pain. His muffled screams pierced the air but were not heard outside of the atrium. Gallucci’s blood dripped on the stone bench. In seconds, a small pool had formed. Frasier twisted his arms and so did the vines holding Gallucci’s limbs. The sound of bones breaking was louder than Gallucci’s screams and Lemonhope could no longer bear the torture.

“Stop!” shouted Lemonhope. Frasier stopped for a moment as Gallucci’s leg had made a full rotation. His face was warped and reminded Lemonhope of a demon. Frasier slowly turned his head towards Lemonhope and the full horror of what Frasier’s rage looked like was visible to Lemonhope. Frasier’s head was splitting open, letting the deep orange of the sunset fill his head with evil light. His face conveyed pure malicious intent and was more akin to that of a snarling wolf than a humanoid face. Frasier noticed the fear that he caused his friend and withdrew his demonic appearance.

“Is that really you, Frasier?” asked Lemonhope, now uncertain.  
“Of course it is,” replied Frasier.  
“Would you then really kill someone?”  
“Wouldn’t you?!” shouted Frasier. “He enslaved us! He made me forget what it felt like to know who I am! He deserves nothing less…”  
Frasier looked down for a moment. The plants gave a slight slack but still held Gallucci high. “But killing him would bring us down to be no better than him,” said Lemonhope softly.  
Frasier had a sharp vine poised to pierce Gallucci’s skull, but still didn’t lower it. “I don’t think I would care if it made me even worse than him,” said Frasier. His voice was barely a whisper.

Lemonhope had to think fast. He had to find a reason for Frasier not to kill Gallucci which didn’t lie in morals. Then he was struck with a thought. “Even if you did kill him, how will we get out?”  
Frasier’s mind was still hazy, but he could remember the struggle that they had to find the way out of the city. “Ok,” conceded Frasier. “We’ll ask him how to get out.”  
“And how to free the guards from their brainwashed state!” added Lemonhope.  
Frasier made the plants take the bundle of flowers out of Gallucci’s mouth. He coughed up a wad of blood. “I’ll never tell you,” he managed to say before his limb was twisted for compliance. “Ok, ok, I’ll tell you!” he shouted out before his leg twisted off. “To get out you just need to follow the road paved with triangles.”  
Frasier and Lemonhope both let out a surprised “Hmf” at the simplicity of how to get out.

“The brainwashed guy’s though; I have no idea. I didn’t even know that it was possible to bring someone back from it. Can you please let me go?”  
Some blood dribbled from Gallucci’s mouth as he waited for a reply. Lemonhope knew that this meant Casino City would continue with its exploitation, no matter what they did. Lemonhope noticed that Frasier was getting ready to finish off Gallucci. “Wait,” he uttered. “He told us how to get out, and I don’t think he’ll ever be the same after this. Can we please just leave him?”

Frasier looked towards his friend. “I’ll leave him, but only since you asked me,” sighed Frasier. He dropped Gallucci and he fell hard on the stone bench. Gallucci squelched with blood as he hit the bench hard. All that could be heard from him was heavy breathing and blood-filled coughs. Frasier and Lemonhope quickly made their way out of Gallucci’s office and made their way for the exit. When they left the building, it was as if nothing had happened since they were enslaved. The streets were still bustling with hopeless souls looking for another penny. They followed the special road and soon found the same booth where they gave their money for Gallucci-coins. They didn’t even stop when the clerk in the booth asked, “Cashing out?”.

When they saw the open fields of the outside world again, they began to feel like themselves again. Lemonhope finally took off the jester hat and Frasier ripped off the tuxedo. “I’m going to need new clothes,” uttered Lemonhope.  
Frasier looked to the horizon where the Ice Kingdom’s snowy peaks stuck out. “I might not know a place where you can get new clothes,” said Frasier. “But I do know a place where a jester outfit won’t seem too out of place.”  
“And where might that be?” said Lemonhope, now getting the taste for adventure again.  
“It’s a club which is said to only show itself to those who truly want to forget their past.”  
“Sign me up!” exclaimed Lemonhope, eager to forget his horrible life for the past few days and the horror that his friend unleashed.

As they began their trek, Lemonhope thought for a second about the people that he condemned to a fate maybe worse than death. They all would just continue gambling forever, even if they killed Gallucci. Then again, would Gallucci ever learn from his encounter with them or just continue his brainwashing ways? Lemonhope decided that it would be better to put that behind him, even if it pained him to do so. After all, he had a stiff drink waiting for him in the Ice Kingdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be writing a bit on my personal novel, but I will be back soon enough with more. I am very excited to continue their story and grow their party!


	6. The Old and the Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lemonhope and Frasier have escaped Casino City and are now making their way to Club Ice, but find a peculiar hut along the way with an even more peculiar resident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay.

It had been a few days since Lemonhope and Frasier escaped Casino City. Frasier and Lemonhope had not talked a lot during those days and Lemonhope found himself constantly reflecting on what had happened. Even when he tried to forget the city, he was reminded of it by the jester clothes that he was still wearing. He was reminded of his torment by his friend, or what he called a friend.

The jester clothes were really starting to bother him. Through their trek he had torn it and long discarded the bells, except for one. The colours on it were fading to become browner as they were ill washed and not highly regarded. The jester shoes were also not made for traveling, and the ground had taken its toll on their soles and Lemonhope’s feet. He was in a desperate need for some new clothes.

It was as Lemonhope was pondering this fact that he saw a small hut next to the road that they were following. He pointed it out to Frasier, who seemed to be playing with the grass on the side of the road with his powers, and Lemonhope struggled to keep up with the grassling as Frasier dashed towards the hut bursting with excitement. Frasier was already knocking at a rapid-fire pace when Lemonhope caught up. The door opened before Lemonhope could even catch his breath. “Who is it?” came the irritated voice of an old man from the darkness.  
“We’re… weary… travellers, sir,” gasped Lemonhope.  
“We only seek a place to stay for a while,” chirped Frasier. “And some clothes as well,” he added in a mumble.

The door seemed to be closing for a moment before it swung open. “Come in, all are welcome!” said the Fishman behind the old voice. The Fishman had buckets of water strapped to his feet and wore a small hat on his head. He sported some ragged underwear and nothing else to cover himself. The inside of the hut seemed to be just as ragged as him and seemingly larger than it appeared to be outside. They now stood in a living room with torn couches and broken armchairs. “Take a seeeat,” said the old Fishman indicating towards the couch with most of its stuffing pouring out. He made his way to an armchair which had fallen over and was barely intact. He lifted it upright and sat down on it, the chair groaning beneath him.

Frasier and Lemonhope cautiously made their way to the couch and each sat on the side of the couch that seemed to be the least damaged. “Oh, let me get the light!” said the Fishman. He jumped out of his chair and pulled a string connected to a lightbulb. A click could be heard followed by a snap as the string broke. The light did not come on. “Much better,” mumbled the Fishman. “So, what brought you two here?”  
Frasier shifted uncomfortably in his seat before he spoke for the two. “We recently escaped… left Casino City,” he began. “We’ve been making our way to Club Ice and have been looking for some new clothes for Lemonhope here along the way.”

Frasier avoided looking into the Fishman’s eyes as he spoke but made eye-contact again as soon as he was done. “Ah, Casino City… And where do you say you came from again?” asked the Fishman.  
“Casino City,” Lemonhope piped up, slightly frustrated by the old Fish’s senility.   
“And you need some food, yes?” remarked the Fishman, now seemingly lost in thought.  
“No, we need clothes!” shouted Lemonhope.  
“Oh, you can have what you want, I don’t use most of it now the days. Anyways, let me go make you some food.”

The Fishman then stood up and walked through a door which was broken in half and led to what appeared to be a bathroom. “This guy is insane,” whispered Frasier to Lemonhope.  
“I completely agree, do you think we should get out of here?” replied Lemonhope.  
“Not without taking a look first; I’ve always wondered what the inside of a crazy person’s house looks like.”  
“We can’t! Who knows what he’ll do if he catches us snooping around.”  
“Don’t worry,” said Frasier with an accompanying pat to Lemonhope’s back. “He even said himself that he doesn’t use most of the stuff here anymore. I mean, look at the place!”

Frasier had a point, as the hut seemed to be steeping into a derelict state. “Ok,” admitted Lemonhope. “We can have a look, but no taking what we don’t own!”  
Frasier gave a small nod and dashed into a door which was slightly better looking than the one the Fishman went into.

Lemonhope decided that it would be best to explore the room that he was already in. He wanted to make himself a basis from which he will build as he explored. He started at the entrance where a pink dresser stood. Above it was what looked like a draped portrait or mirror. He couldn’t see what was on top of the dresser, so he pulled out the bottom drawer and perched himself precariously on top of it and finally had a proper look at the top. The item that caught his attention first was a photograph in a rotting wood frame. The photo contained the visage of a much younger Fishman in a very formal suit. Next to them was a Fishman dressed in a crimson gown. A Fish- _woman_ then. In front of the pair of Fishpeople holding each other was a considerably smaller Fishperson who was holding a small plush squid. Lemonhope turned the frame around and found a date that made it clear that the photo was taken years ago.

The next item that Lemonhope turned his attention to was a music box sitting on the centre of the drawer. When he opened it, a small Fishperson ballerina popped up and a pleasant tune played. Lemonhope started humming along and continued humming when he closed the box.

As he scanned the surface for something else to inspect, he saw that the draping hung down onto the dresser. He pulled at it and looked toward the concealed object. As the cloth slowly dropped down, thousands of Lemonhope’s began to appear, each of them staring at Lemonhope. Lemonhope jumped a bit and fell over, pulling the cloth down with him. He landed with a loud thud and he looked to see if the Fishman came back to see what the noise was. When no Fishman appeared, he looked back towards the thousands of Lemonhopes only to realise that he was startled by a broken mirror. He chuckled to himself and realised that he was way too on edge. After quickly recomposing himself he made his way back up the dresser.

After looking at various nick-nacks he came across a strange looking piece of paper. It looked like it was torn, taped together, and then torn again. He picked it up and realised that it was only half of a letter. He looked down the side of the dresser and saw a kicked over bin with the other half of the paper poking out. He climbed down and picked up the other half and combined to two to see what the letter said.

_Dear Obed,_

_You’re no longer the man we knew. I doubt that you would even know the man you were yourself, but I don’t know much about illnesses such as the one that plagues you. I beg that you will forgive us for leaving you, and that you will one day remember the family that you have forgotten. If you ever do remember, come to the marshes._

_With forgotten love  
The Marsh Family_

Lemonhope’s humming had ceased as he read this. He was slightly shocked to find out that the Fishman had a family, let alone a name. As he stepped down from the dresser, he slipped on the cloth that he pulled down earlier and started falling. As he fell, he grabbed for something to hold onto and pulled out the top drawer in the process. His tumble created a loud ruckus which Lemonhope was certain Obed would hear.

As he reoriented himself, he noticed that he pulled out a drawer full of paintings, as many were now strewn across the floor. It seemed to be a series of self-portraits by Obed and were dated across many years. Near the top of the pile was a near perfect portrait of Obed, followed by a near identical one after that. As Lemonhope went down the pile, the portraits became more and more abstract, where in the later ones the painter becoming unrecognisable. All that could be said about the later paintings were that they portrayed some ill mockery of a Fishman and were terrifying to those who saw it. Lemonhope scrambled away from the pile when he saw the final and latest portrait. “What’s wrong?” Frasier asked as he returned from the room he went into. He had a pile of clothes in his arms and had a sock over the tip of his head.

Before Lemonhope could even respond, a scream rang out in the shed. Obed was standing in the centre of the living room and looked incredibly angry. “Thieves!” he shouted and raised a club which he seemed to have been hiding beneath the couch.   
“We’re not thieves?” replied Lemonhope slightly confused.  
“You broke into my house! You’re trying to steal my clothes!”  
Lemonhope and Frasier began to back away from Obed and towards the door, stumbling over the paintings as they did so.  
“But you said we can take some of your clothes,” Frasier said. He was by the door now and reaching for the handle.  
“I would never give some hooligans my clothes. Get out!” shouted Obed.

Frasier then swung open the door and dragged Lemonhope outside with him. The moment that they were outside, Frasier slammed the door shut and the two began to run back from where they came. After a few seconds of running, they realised that they weren’t followed outside. All that could be seen at the hut were socks and pants that Frasier dropped while running away.

“That’s strange,” remarked Frasier.  
“Well, the guy _is_ insane, and I do think he has some memory problems,” said Lemonhope between gasps for breath.  
“Alrighty then… I got some clothes for you!” Frasier half sung as he lifted the bundle of clothes. “We won’t even have to modify it since I found a bunch of kid-sized clothes. The guy’s a real weirdo keeping clothes like that.”  
“Obed is most certainly a strange man,” mumbled Lemonhope.  
“Obed? Who’s that?” questioned Frasier.

Lemonhope quickly explained to Frasier what he found and learned of Obed. Once he was finished Frasier was nodding his head and stroking an invisible beard. “Truly tragic,” he said once he was done nodding. “But we have to get you something better than _that_ ,” he said and gestured towards Lemonhope’s sad excuse for a jester outfit.  
After quickly picking up the clothes Frasier dropped, the two started fitting Lemonhope to see what would work. They settled on a formal suit as the rest was “utter garbage,” as Frasier put it.

“Well, I guess I look stylish now, but we can’t just drop all the clothes here,” said Lemonhope.  
He turned back to the hut which was now merely a silhouette as the sun set behind it. Besides returning the unused clothes, Lemonhope felt a sense of duty to the old man. He felt he knew how to bring him back from the brink of insanity and that it would be easy enough to accomplish. All he needed to do was play a little song and play with the Fishman’s heart as he played with his strings.

“Frasier, we need to help Obed,” said Lemonhope with conviction.  
“The weird Fish guy?” replied Frasier. “Can we really help him?”  
Frasier shifted slightly. “I know you could do it for me, but you don’t even know him,” said Frasier.  
“I know enough,” was all Lemonhope said before he marched towards the hut.  
He had the key to Obed’s heart, and he was going to crack open his chest of old memories.


	7. Trying to Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lemonhope has a plan on how he can help Obed, but will it work?

Frasier shifted under the weight of the clothes. Lemonhope had realised that he didn’t have any lyrics to the song that he wanted to play for Obed when he reached the door. He had been sitting there strumming his harp and looking into the quickly darkening sky. He never thought that creating a song for Obed would be this hard, but he wanted it to be perfect. He knew that if he failed, Obed would rot away in his hut along with any hope for him to remember who he even was.

“Are you sure we can do this?” asked Frasier. “This has been taking forever, I just want to return the clothes now.”  
Lemonhope held up his hand toward Frasier for silence. Then he looked toward Frasier with a twinkle in his eye, still holding up his hand. “I got it,” he said and was met with a high-five from Frasier.  
Lemonhope was finally ready. Truly ready. He stood up and knocked on the door before Frasier could bombard the door with rapid knocks.

Not a second later and the door opened to reveal Obed in all his dishevelled glory. “Is it Halloween already?” asked Obed. “Wait, don’t tell me what the two of you are, I’ll guess. You must be an angel with your harp, and you must be a giant evil moth with your pile of clothes!”  
Obed looked excited to see if he was right. Frasier replied with rapid fire speech, “It’s not Halloween, these are your clothes and we’re here to give them to you.”  
Lemonhope wondered if Obed understood any of that as he struggled to understand what Frasier said himself.

Frasier thrust the clothes into Obed’s hands before he could respond to Frasier’s impatient behaviour. Obed seemed to understand the clothes better than anything else Frasier could have possibly said. “Oh, so you’re here to give me some clothes for my child!” said Obed. “Always wanted one but never had the time try and make one. A pity really. I really appreciate the thought though.”  
His eyes seemed to glaze over for a second and he stared beyond the duo off into the distance. His mouth hung open and some drool started to pour out. Before Lemonhope could ask if Obed was okay, the old Fishman slurped up the string of spit and looked back at the two confused friends. “Good morning, how can I help you fine chaps?”

Lemonhope was taken aback by the clear reset of Obed’s memory. His memory was in a terrible state and might have been getting worse as they were talking to him. “Obed, we’re here to help you,” said Lemonhope in a determined fashion.  
“Who’s Obed?” replied Obed, clearly confused.  
“Your memory is completely donked up and we need to fix it as soon as possible.”  
“If you want some tea you can just ask you know.”  
_Looks like a direct approach won’t work._ Lemonhope decided to reorient his approach and play into the old Fishman’s delusions. “We’d love to have some tea!” said Lemonhope in his most friendly tone of voice.  
Obed turned around and started walking into the hut. He raised his left hand and waved towards the two to come in.

Frasier stayed behind for a bit after Lemonhope entered the hut. He had no clue as to what just happened. It was like listening to two old ladies who could barely hear anymore talking to each other. It made him wonder if Lemonhope really knew what he was doing. His friend did seem confident in his ability to bring people back from the brink, but Frasier had only seen it happen once and it was with himself. He didn’t want to doubt Lemonhope, but he did. He felt terrible for doing so and scolded himself for dwindling into that line of thinking. He then realised Lemonhope was already setting up whatever ritual he planned and dashed inside, not wanting to be left out.

Lemonhope had gathered all the items which he deemed to have been important to Obed all the while making sure that he was never out of Obed’s sight. He didn’t want a repeat of earlier that day, but he wasn’t sure that just staying in Obed’s view would be a guarantee, so he made his setup with haste. He was now sitting across Obed in the living room in the same couch that he sat in earlier that day. Frasier jumped over the back of the couch and slid into his seat exited to see what happened next. Lemonhope looked over what he gathered. The Picture of Obed with his family, the oldest self-portrait, and the music box. He opened the music box in order to let it play its song. With this, Lemonhope began to strum:

_You used to know your name  
but now you’ve broken down  
so here I will obtain  
your past and truest pain_

_Obed will you hear me?  
Obed do you know me? _

_You come from the line of Marsh  
and your loss has made them harsh  
against you_

_All that you have lost  
want you to know  
who you were  
and can be_

_Dearest Obed  
do you know me?_

The music box closed itself when Lemonhope finished. Obed had a tear in his eye and seemed enchanted by the music. “That was the most beautiful song I have ever heard,” sobbed Obed. “What’s your name, stranger?”  
“Lemonhope,” replied the happy little lemon boy.  
“What’s your name, stranger?” asked Obed the very same way as he asked before.  
“Lemonhope,” replied a now confused Lemonhope.  
“What’s your name, stranger?”  
“Lemonhope,” replied a concerned Lemonhope.  
“What’s your name, stranger?”  
“Lemonhope!” shouted Lemonhope in dismay.

He failed, yet he was certain that the song would work. He had made a song with everything that he knew of the old Fishman, but it wasn’t enough. Lemonhope curled into a ball and began to sob. Was he any good at music at all? Had people just been falsely praising his songs or thought he was better than he really was? Was fat Lemongrab right?

Frasier was at a loss for words and actions. He didn’t think that Lemonhope’s song would work, but he didn’t expect Lemonhope to react this extremely to failing. He looked at Obed who didn’t seem to care and was now looking at the family picture with a puzzled expression. He was no Obed, not anymore. He was just a crazy Fishman who had a lot of stuff that some Obed guy owned. If no memory existed, neither did Obed. The only Obed that would live on was the one that his family and the pictures knew. Frasier finally decided that giving Lemonhope a hug would help the most. “Let’s go. It’s almost completely dark and I don’t think it would be wise to sleep here,” he said softly.

Lemonhope gave a sniff and looked at Frasier with a tear streaked face. “Am I a good musician?” asked Lemonhope.  
“The best I’ve ever known,” was all Frasier could say as he helped up his friend.  
Obed seemed to now be enjoying riding his chair and almost falling over each time, not even noticing the two leave. They could hear Obed blowing raspberries as they left the hut. The night had completely fallen, and the dark new moon helped create a pitch-black night. Frasier had to feel for the road beneath his feet and struggled to do so as Lemonhope had given up on walking. His friend’s misery was a real damper on his mood.

He decided to give up on the two of them walking further down the road for a good campsite, and sat down, with Lemonhope plopping down next to him. Not seeing any sticks in the darkness, Frasier used his power to use the grass around him. With it he felt for sticks on the grass. When he did find some, he made them glide across the grass towards him and then started to arrange a campfire. The cold was getting intense and he hurried his efforts. Within a few minutes he had enough wood for a good campfire to light up the area and to heat them up. After rubbing a few sticks together, he kindled a fire. A while later and he began to feel the warmth and could see the small surrounding area, including Lemonhope who seemed to have fallen asleep.

“This is gonna be a long night,” surmised Frasier. He looked up at the stars and wondered what his friend could be dreaming about. Maybe it was about club ice since he just got another memory to forget about.


	8. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lemonhope and Frasier reflect on what has transpired and what this could mean for their future.

_Gallucci was hoisted high into the air by Frasier’s plant tentacles. They seemed to sprout from his back and the plants around him. Gallucci was moaning and trying to cry for help. Most of his limbs were long gone and he was looking pale with how little blood he had left. Lemonhope tried screaming out again for Frasier to stop, but it came out as nothing but a mere whisper. Gallucci looked into Lemonhope’s eyes, begging for Lemonhope to somehow help him. His mouth opened to say something, but nothing except blood came out as a tentacle as sharp as a blade pierced his skull. Gallucci’s brain matter spilled out as the tentacle withdrew and his entire body seemed to go completely limp._

_Frasier dropped the corpse onto the bench, the corpse’s back landing across the back rest of the bench causing a sickening crack to be emitted throughout the room. It was only then that Lemonhope could speak. “Frasier,” he called out in a hoarse voice. “Why?”  
But Frasier did not answer him. Instead he snarled and turned to face Lemonhope. His eyes were mere slits emitting a fiery glow, his mouth an abyss of infinite razor-sharp teeth, and his head was splitting open to reveal some dark red orb emanating a blood red light. It seemed to Lemonhope that he was tiny compared to the beast which now towered above him. Its limbs stretched across the room and a mixture of bony appendages and tentacles came out of its back. More light came out of the beast as it seemed to unravel itself and approached Lemonhope. The closer it got, the stronger the smell of burning flesh became to Lemonhope. _

_He tried to call out for help now, for someone to save him from this creature that he once trusted. But now nothing could be heard except the beast’s snarling. It stabbed Lemonhope in the arms and used that to hoist him up high. He could now see the horror in its entirety. He only saw it for a moment however before a sharp tentacle hovered before his eyes. It reared back and-_

Lemonhope awoke gasping for breath as if he were submerged under water for a long time. The sun was just peeking over the horizon and casted long shadows. Lemonhope looked around. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he did remember Frasier carrying him out of Obed’s hut. He then noticed Frasier sitting across him, past the still warm remains of the last night’s campfire. Frasier’s head was bowed over, and his chest moved steadily up and down. A stick with a burnt end laid next to his open palm. There were dark rings underneath his eyes.

Lemonhope turned around to get an idea of where they were and saw that they were only a small distance away from the hut. He was in the middle of a yawn when it was interrupted by his growling stomach. He picked up the half-burnt stick and poked Frasier with it, dropping the stick immediately as he realised that he grabbed the hot end of it. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” said Lemonhope.  
Frasier only stirred a little at this and mumbled something about giving him more time. Lemonhope decided to use, what he thought was, his friend’s advice and left Frasier to snooze a little further.

Lemonhope was glad that Frasier was so considerate and would sacrifice his own sleep for his friend’s comfort, but the dream still lingered in the back of his mind. They say dreams speak of hidden truths, but then Lemonhope would have been flying with pigs now. He has always struggled with bad dreams about the world around him. When he fled from the care of Princess Bubblegum to avoid going back to Castle Lemongrab, he was plagued with nightmares of the suffering people he abandoned. He only managed to get rid of the dreams when he went back and defeated the large tyrant. But how would he get rid of his bad dreams about Frasier?

He couldn’t just leave Frasier behind; what if Frasier hunted him when he did? And then again, Frasier hasn’t shown his monstrous side for some time, so it might have been a once off thing. Lemonhope bounced between thinking that Frasier was a monster and that he was just his innocent friend. Lemonhope’s train of thought was broken when he saw Frasier waking up. He considered asking him about his monstrous form, but decided that such a question was not a good thing to wake up to.

“I see you woke up early,” said Frasier groggily.   
His eyes kept fluttering closed as a sweet slumber called to him. He slowly stood up and stretched, yawning as he did so. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you being this low on energy,” remarked Lemonhope. He was somewhat thankful that for once he was a little faster than Frasier. Frasier turned a full 360 degrees looking out at the hills. He almost fell over after doing this but managed to catch himself. “I just need some dew and then I’ll be as ripe as rain,” said Frasier, attempting to be perky.  
“Speaking of which, do we have something to eat?” asked Lemonhope.  
“Check your pocket,” replied Fraiser.  
Lemonhope reached into his jacket and found a dark and dry piece of meat tucked away in the depths of an inner pocket.  
“I found that lying around while I was looking through Obed’s house,” said Frasier. “Not sure what kind of meat it is, but it looked tasty, so I grabbed it.”

Lemonhope thought about throwing it away but his stomach protested by growling loudly. Lemonhope reluctantly brought the meat closer to his mouth and took a small bite out of it. To his surprise, it was pretty good. It was a salty, chewy piece of meat and had a tasty spice sprinkled all over it. Despite wanting to eat it all now, Lemonhope realised that it would take a while due to how long it took to chew at least one bite. He took another bite and stuffed it back into his pocket.

“So how long until we reach the Ice Kingdom?” asked Lemonhope with his mouth full.  
“We should reach it by the end of today,” replied Frasier. “And you should swallow before you talk, it’s disgusting.”  
“Sorry,” mumbled Lemonhope, his mouth still full.  
With that said, the two made sure that the fire was dead and continued on their way to the Ice Kingdom.

The walk was fairly silent with Lemonhope chewing the meat and Frasier occasionally darting off the road to drink some dew. It was as Frasier ran to get some more dew when Lemonhope began thinking again. Frasier seemed nice enough and kept doing nice things for him, but Lemonhope still struggled to forget that day. Could Frasier just be putting up an act in order to make Lemonhope let his guard down? With such power Frasier could easily overwhelm him, even if he did have his guard up. Besides, he had slept next to Frasier every night since they met. So, maybe Frasier didn’t want to murder him, but what else could he want from Lemonhope? Frasier had been calling all the shots, deciding where they would go next and what they would do, but Lemonhope had been allowing it to happen. He asked Frasier where they should go. He made that choice in the first place as he was free to do so. Did he make the wrong choice?

Lemonhope couldn’t say for sure since he was still alive after all. But then again, the whole reason he and Frasier were captured by Gallucci was because Frasier led them there and cheated the games. Frasier should have known that it would go so wrong. But something nagged at Lemonhope with that assumption. Frasier could just be naïve and not have known that his actions were bad or could have possibly led to such consequences. Lemonhope looked over at Frasier who was enjoying another morning dew. He looked innocent enough. For now.

“Frasier?” asked Lemonhope.  
“Yea?” replied the little green man  
“Are we friends?”  
“Of course we are!” replied Frasier with mock shock. “How could you even think of such a thing?”  
Lemonhope paused for a second. “Ever since we escaped Casino City, I’ve been wondering about when you attacked Gallucci,” said Lemonhope.  
Frasier seemed to lose his brightness when Lemonhope mentioned that. He stopped where he was walking and looked towards Lemonhope. “I suppose you want to know why I turned into a monster?” said Frasier solemnly.  
“What else could there possibly be?” replied Lemonhope.   
They both stood there looking at each other for a moment before Frasier continued. “When I attacked Gallucci, I was taken by a rage. It’s a rage that I have been struggling with my whole life to contain, but when I was freed by your music, I felt something snap inside of me. It felt like I knew what had been causing all the misery in my life, and it was sitting right in front of me. I knew it was wrong to act on it, but my rage drove me on. Feeling like your whole world is collapsing and the only way you can prevent it is by lashing out feels terrible. Gallucci might have taken away who I was, but it was I who truly lost myself.”  
“Even if I have this pointless rage inside of me, clawing to wreak havoc, it’s still a part of what I am. Everybody has their flaws, and only a few have learned to accept them”

Lemonhope was shocked by Frasier’s honest answer, but he still wasn’t satisfied. “Would you ever turn that rage against me?” he asked.  
“I would never enact upon my rage if it would hurt you, Lemonhope. You forget that the only reason Gallucci is alive is because you stopped me. My friends and the way that I act are some the only few ways that I can cure myself of the rage. Every happy moment and every cheerful smile are nothing but something I use to hide what I fear. I understand that you fear it as well, but please find it in your heart to accept this part of me. Look into yourself and you will see that you are just as flawed as me, and that we are merely influenced by our flaws, not made by them.”

Lemonhope tried to look into himself and struggled to find what made him flawed. He overcame his fears and conquered his demons. Isn’t that what he did when he defeated Lemongrab? Lemonhope shook that train of thought away and considered Frasier in front of him. Frasier opened his heart and Lemonhope could either accept it or break it where he stood. “I understand,” said Lemonhope. Even if that were a lie, he knew it would be cruel to say otherwise. “After all, you are my friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck procrastination.


	9. Club Ice Beckons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lemonhope finds the mysterious Club Ice and confronts a choice which will alter his life. To live with the horrors of his past or forget everything he ever knew.

Lemonhope’s mind was at ease for the rest of the day during their travel. For a moment his and Frasier’s troubles seemed to have been forgotten, and their trip went by much faster because of it. As the sun set, they could see the border between the grassy hills they were on and the frosty Ice Kingdom approach. The night was extremely cold compared to the last one, but this time Frasier and Lemonhope took equal turns in order to keep the fire going while the other slept. Despite the constant fire, the two felt like they were freezing the next morning.

“So, how exactly _are_ we going to find Club Ice?” asked Lemonhope.  
“It shows itself to those who truly wish to forget the past,” replied Frasier with confidence.  
“But how does it ‘show itself to those’?”   
“I… don’t know.”  
The two were stumped. Lemonhope was no good at interpreting cryptic messages and Frasier never really questioned his grandfather’s stories. “Let’s just walk around a bit and something might show up,” suggested Frasier.

With no other options they crossed over into the Ice Kingdom. The moment their feet touched the snowy expanse they felt the cold seep into them. Frasier’s normally impatient walk slowed down and Lemonhope shivered constantly. The only saving grace for their comfort was that the wind was not blowing at the moment. After a while of trudging through the icy expanse they saw a penguin playing in the snow. “M-maybe he can tell us where the club is,” suggested Frasier.  
“I-it’s a penguin, how would it be able to t-tell us where the club is?” replied Lemonhope.  
“What else can we d-do? It’s not like we can see the club anywhere nearby.”  
“The f-frost must be getting to your brain. Why would a penguin…”

Lemonhope was interrupted by the penguin making a quack. The duo went completely silent as the penguin stared at them. “You should ask him,” whispered Frasier to Lemonhope.   
Lemonhope gave a little wave to the penguin, making it look towards him. “H-hello there,” stuttered Lemonhope. “Do you know where Club Ice is?”  
Without hesitation, the penguin pointed towards a nearby icy mountain. “T-thank you,” said Lemonhope in surprise. With that said, the penguin flopped down onto its belly and slid off into the distance.

“I’m starting to think your grandad lied about a few things in his stories,” remarked Lemonhope.  
“Maybe,” said Frasier. “But first we need to get to that club. I think I’m going to freeze to death if we stay out here any longer.”   
Frasier turned to the mountain the penguin pointed towards. It appeared rather close compared to the other mountains, but he could see no sign that a club was hidden there. There was no way to be sure that the penguin could really know where the club was, or that the penguin actually understood what they asked of it.

The two shook off what frost had gathered on them and started trudging in the direction of the mountain. With each step that they took the mountain got closer, but so did the potential of a frosty death. However, it was in the moment that Lemonhope considered turning back that they began to hear a noise, a muffled thumping. The further they travelled, the louder it got. “T-the club, that has to be it!” exclaimed Frasier. With newfound strength, the two made their way to the mountain. Soon enough, the thumping seemed to reverberate all around them and even within them. Their hearts raced as they climbed up a steep hill of snow which was vibrating beneath them. Reaching the apex of the hill made it clear that the penguin was right.

A barrage of technicolour light poured out of a pair of double doors onto the snow and a bouncer standing in front of it. Red velvet ropes were arranged in front of the entrance to make a maze of a queue in which surprisingly nobody stood. The thumping was now starting to sound like music which embodied the energy of careless hedonism. The duo broke out into a sprint when they saw all this and nearly fell over each other in their haste.

The queue might have been empty when they entered it, but that didn’t stop the maze-like design from delaying them by a full minute before they got to the bright double doors. Before they could rush inside, they were stopped by the burly bouncer. It was now clear that the bouncer was a snow golem wearing a tie and covered in black paint. “ID?” asked the snow golem.  
Frasier and Lemonhope quickly retrieved their ID’s that they got from Casino City and presented them. “At least that horrid place was good for something,” said Lemonhope as they went in.

When they opened the doors, it felt as if a tsunami of music crashed into them. The lights danced to the melody and the people on the dancefloor grooved to the beat. On the left was a massive bar lined with drinks, seats, and people drunk out of their minds. On the opposite side were rows of booths filled with even more people drinking their worries away. Beyond all this at the back of the building was a box hoisted high in the room. Inside was a bear wearing a fedora managing an enormous DJ setup in front of him. It took a while for Lemonhope to drink it all in and only after that realised that he was feeling warm again.

He could barely think with the music pounding into his skull and tried to focus on a point in order to gain back some control. As he stared at nothing in particular, the music began to tune out. The mad words and the radical beats turned to nothing but a loud baritone note in the back of his head. He could finally clear his mind and truly see what was around him. He noticed that he chose to focus on a booth not too far away from the entrance. In it sat a lone candy person. His skin was a deep ochre and glistened in the florescent lights. On his head sat a red pointed hat with a brim wide enough to cover himself and people standing next to him. He wore a large candy wrapper in the shape of a poncho which had the face of a cow on it. Beneath it was some text that was indecipherable from where Lemonhope stood.

The candy person was staring intently at a translucent shot glass in front of him filled with a creamy blue liquid, deep in thought. He looked up from it with a concerned look on his face and glanced around the club. For a moment, his eyes and Lemonhope’s met. The candy person’s expression went from concern to fearful in an instant, him grabbing for the shot glass as he did so. In a flash the liquid was gone, and he slumped over the table at which he sat.

Lemonhope started to notice the feeling of something poking him in his side and it took him a second to realise that it was Frasier trying to get his attention. He could see Frasier’s mouth moving, but all he could hear was the ceaseless drone of music. “What?” he screamed at Frasier. He could barely hear his friend’s reply, “Are you alright, Lemonhope?”.  
As with everything in the club, it took Lemonhope a while to realise what his friend said. “I’m fine, it’s just hard to hear anything,” he shouted in return.  
“Then what were you staring at?”  
“Just some guy who might be dead.”  
“What?!”

Frasier located the candy person and dashed with great speed towards him. “Alright you party animals, now it’s time for the slooow dance,” emanated a voice throughout the club. The lights dimmed down, and the music changed to a softer, more manageable tune. The people on the dancefloor went from being a frantic mash of bodies and limbs and broke off into pairs now keeping a respectful distance between each other. Lemonhope felt as if the frost locking his joints finally melted away and he could relax. He saw Frasier talking adamantly with the candy person all while wearing a massive grin.

It was strange how a small little creature such as him could have such a friendly disposition, pondered Lemonhope. He acted the same way when he met Lemonhope the first time, and from where Lemonhope stood it looked like the conversation was going in a remarkably similar way as his and Frasier’s did back then. A question slipped into Lemonhope’s mind, and it was one which brewed concern. Could Frasier have been acting like this with every new and strange person that he has met? It meant to Lemonhope that Frasier could have just buttered him up as special in order to get close to him. More importantly, could this mean that Frasier had done this before? And what happened to those who he ‘befriended’ before Lemonhope?

Lemonhope cursed his inquisitive nature. He might have had his doubts about the little green fellow, and when he confronted Frasier all he got was a sensible answer. Lemonhope always had some question which made him uncomfortable and led to a sense of distrust. He decided that this was another aspect of himself to forget.

Lost in thought, Lemonhope did not notice Frasier and his newfound friend approach him. When they called for his attention, he jumped as he was surprised at the candy person’s height. After Lemonhope calmed down, Frasier took it as his queue to explain. “This is Molasses Moe, although that isn’t his real name, and he wants to join us in our travels! I asked him a bit and he told me that he didn’t even remember how he got into this club. Strange, isn’t it? He remembers nothing about his past or who he is. I have a pretty good suspicion that the reason he forgot is because of this club. It should be fairly obvious as to why, since it _was_ my grandpa’s stories about how this place makes you forget. He even has a cool gun! Take a look,” said Frasier in one large breath before he removed Moe’s gun from its holster.

“Frasier just stop for a second,” said Lemonhope. “You’ve been going a bit too fast for me to follow, and I think I need a bit of a break from that. Can you leave me alone for a while to think, please?”  
Frasier was dead silent when his friend said that. “Alright then,” replied Frasier softly. “Take some time to think it over, ok?”  
Lemonhope turned away from Frasier and Moe towards the bar, and then made his way to whatever drink waited behind the counter for him.

He just needed a break from it all. A break from adventuring. A break from all the terrors which he had encountered. A break from Frasier. The ever-vigilant bartender was by Lemonhope before he even took a seat. The bartender looked completely like a human, except for the fact that his head was a balloon with a crudely drawn face on it. As he spoke, the face moved vaguely along with his words. “What will it be?” he asked.  
“I just want to forget it all,” replied Lemonhope.  
“Ah, the Forget Me Not! A classic. I’ll have it ready for you in a second.”

The bartender reached beneath the counter and grabbed three drinks in each hand. Lemonhope barely had time to register what they all were before the bartender began to move them between his hands and the countertop seamlessly. All Lemonhope could understand of what was happening in front of him, was that the glass that was in front of him was filling up with an array of strange liquids mixing together making strange colours and patterns. In the blink of an eye the drink was finished, and the bartender returned the bottles below the counter.

“How much is the drink?” asked Lemonhope now realising that he might be required to pay some money which he did not have. “First drink is on the house,” replied the bartender who was now cleaning a glass. All Lemonhope’s worries of cash and credit faded away, knowing that he only needed one of these drinks to forget it all. The glass was filled with the same creamy blue liquid as Moe’s was.

Lemonhope picked up the glass and put it up to his lips, but before he could drink, he remembered something. He remembered that he would forget all the good along with all the bad, and with that realisation came another. He won’t be able to remember. It was childish to only now realise the ramifications of such a drink which he had before him, but could he really be to blame for considering drinking it?

He went through personal hell to personal hell his entire life, as short as it was. But despite the pleasure that he would get from forgetting them, he would also forget his triumphs that came from overcoming each of them. His success and hardship made him who he was. If it were not for his imprisonment early in his life, he would never have wanted to be free as much as he did. Could forgetting everything make him forget who he was in the first place? After a not so careful consideration, coupled with the thought of Frasier’s new best friend, he knew that yes, he would forget himself, and that was the last thing he wanted to lose.

He put the glass down and slid it over to the person sitting next to him. Despite his growth through hardship, the hardship was still unpleasant to live through. He has always been put through this by other people. Lemongrab imprisoned him; Princess Bubblegum wanted him to liberate Castle Lemongrab; and Frasier wanted him to go to Casino City. All of them had put him through the worst moments of his life, yet none have ever apologised or seemed willing to. Lemonhope looked at Frasier having a conversation with Moe. Frasier didn’t really care for him. Nobody did. All Frasier wanted was someone to lead from one horror to the next, and he just found a new subject to exploit.

Lemonhope decided that Frasier should no longer exploit him for some sadistic purpose. Frasier had someone else’s life to ruin now. With that, Lemonhope stood up from the stool and made his way to the entrance, not even glancing at Frasier. He saw the snowy expanse waiting for him and embraced the cold that awaited him. He was stopped by Frasier just before he opened the door. “Where are you going?” asked Frasier in a concerned tone.  
“As far away from you as I can,” replied Lemonhope bitterly.  
“What do you mean?”  
“You have brought me nothing but pain, and the only way that I can see a future for myself is to make one without you.”  
A wave seemed to ripple over Frasier as he heard this. “I thought we were friends,” said Frasier.  
“I don’t think I can trust a friend that drags me to horrible places and can kill me in an instant whenever he pleases,” said Lemonhope.  
“But you know I won’t do such a thing to you.”  
“Just leave me alone, ok? I don’t want to see or hear anything about you again.”

Lemonhope left the door wide open as he left. As he was leaving, he heard Frasier call out to him. “I know what your flaw is now!” shouted Frasier. “You’re a coward! And an egotistical one at that!”  
Lemonhope didn’t turn to face Frasier. The final blow was struck, and by Frasier none the less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've learned my lesson when it comes to planning, and that's to not neglect a single bit or writer's block will fuck you up.


	10. A New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lemonhope has now found a true freedom in his travels and seeks new adventure on the horizon.

Lemonhope now stood at the edge of the Ice Kingdom. He knew he was now totally free, no longer shackled to anyone who could prevent him from reaching his freedom. However, he was perplexed at what to do now that he had reached that point. He looked across the orange horizon, struggling to avoid the glare of the low hanging sun.

He looked towards the path which led him and Frasier to the Ice Kingdom but decided against it. He was to avoid all that could lead him on a path that Frasier would have desired. He searched for a path that didn’t lead from where he and Frasier came, but could find none. The sun’s light shone into Lemonhope’s eyes, making him shield them. As the glare dissipated around his hand, a forest beneath the sharp sun became clear to him.

The forest didn’t seem too thick from what Lemonhope could observe, and who knows what adventures could await him in there. He speculated what wonders he would see, like a fairy that granted wishes, or a fierce beast with a heart of gold. He started walking at a strong pace towards the forest, motivated not only by the lowering sun but his ambition as well. He felt a swelling inside his heart as he felt a joy which left him long ago; a joy that he last felt when he first set out to Casino City. He took out his harp and strummed a few notes. He formed lyrics in his head and discarded them as soon as they came. He then coincided with his gut which told him that there was no point in planning. Planning restricted the flow of your freedom. He thought of playing a tune, but let his fingers work for him. His lips parted and he let his heart sing.

_On the road a lone adventurer trod  
to many a sight that was odd  
with no party in sight  
yet still receptive to any plight_

_Many questioned his solitude  
and to what dark fate it could allude  
with no companion at his side  
he had to have something to hide_

_But he had no dark goal  
as being alone made him whole  
with the freedom of choice  
he forged his own voice_

_And that was his lonesome goal_

As his song finished, Lemonhope found himself deep in the forest. Thin streaks of light filtered through the trunks of the trees and gave the forest a low orange glow. Lemonhope started gathering sticks for a fire and looked for a clearing where he could build it. When found one, he dropped the sticks in a pile and took out his harp. He was hungry and needed to hunt some food. Luckily, he learned a thing or two when it comes to hunting on his travels and used his harp to lure a small plump squirrel to him. He found that he was very fond of the taste of squirrels.

As he enjoyed the juicy squirrel and stared into the flames, his thoughts began to drift to the moment that he left Frasier. He made the decision to leave, and that decision was based on the horror that Frasier could commit. What worried him was whether that decision was inevitable. The anger hidden within Frasier was with the little grass person their whole life, so it was bound to show itself to Lemonhope eventually. It led Lemonhope to wonder whether he would have reacted differently to Frasier if Frasier revealed his anger later. They had not known each other for a long time and their relationship had not developed too much, yet such a revelation could have destroyed his trust in an even greater fashion if he knew Frasier for longer. Was he bound to reject Frasier the moment he met him? 

Lemonhope hated the concept of destiny, yet this idea frightened him that it might be a reality. It would mean the death of his freedom. The freedom which he fought for would be a mere illusion to disguise the complex machine of the world and his place therein, where every action was planned for and would occur without fail. He faced himself with the decision whether he was stuck to follow destiny or that he had freedom in his choices.

He decided that he needed to sleep. The night brought horrible thoughts, but there was an escape from it in dreams. Lemonhope put away the half-finished squirrel in his pocket, saving it for later. He then let his head rest on his lumpy bag still staring into the dying flame. The light faded from his vision as his mind receded inwards. At first, he thought the rustling in the distance was an approaching dream, but when it grew louder with no accompanying visions, he realised that it was reality. Lemonhope opened a single eye and looked around into the black abyss surrounding the light of his fire. A rustling could be heard directly behind Lemonhope which sent him up to his feet and wide awake.

“Is anybody there?” asked Lemonhope the darkness. He received no reply. His campfire’s dying light made the ring of darkness slowly approach him, threatening to consume him in the abyss. Lemonhope felt that his senses were heightened by fear and made him hear every small sound. A mourning moan pierced the silence of the night and consumed all that Lemonhope could hear. He looked around trying to find the source, yet only to find the sound to come from all sides. As he looked, he caught a flash of purple in the corner of his eye. “H-hello?” he stuttered. “Show yourself!” He listened for a reply and heard one which he feared. A roar emanated from where he thought he saw the beast, and the roar was one of hunger.

It was a roar that no sane creature could muster, and it was a roar that would mean the end of any who met it. Lemonhope dashed to hide behind what fire remained. “Begone, Demon!” he shouted. But the beast did not leave him. Lemonhope could hear it moving around him, moaning occasionally. Lemonhope shouted again but was met with more moans and roars. Lemonhope lay next to the near-dead fire in a curled-up ball, not daring to try and look at the darkness near his feet.

The moment Lemonhope thought he would be attacked, the sounds stopped. He looked up into the darkness and listened carefully. He heard nothing except for the dripping of some water in the distance. But he did not recall seeing any water near him in the forest. It was as he recalled this that the beast spoke, “Oh, my lumps! That smells good!” Lemonhope swerved to face the beast and was faced by their terrible visage.

The beast had purple fur and seemed to have lumps protruding across its body. It floated a foot above the ground and a cluster of lumps gathered at its bottom. It was foaming at the mouth and had a wild look in its eyes, comparable only to a starved wolf. Lemonhope screamed for his life as the beast reached out towards him. He felt his consciousness slip and fade away, just before the monster took the unfinished squirrel out of his pocket.

Lemonhope’s rest was a dreamless one. When he awoke, he found himself confused at the previous night’s events. He was not dead, yet he recalled being attacked by a monster. He reached for his breakfast and found the squirrel was missing from his pocket. Instead of hunting another delicious beast, he decided to pack up as soon as he could and get away from the forest. To stay any longer in the forest would be tempting death.

It wasn’t long before Lemonhope could see the edge of the forest and the morning light shining in. He stopped for a moment, feeling a chill creep up his spine. His field of vision seemed to be becoming smaller. After considering it for a moment, he chalked it up to his disturbing encounter the previous night. He continued his stroll but stopped again when he felt his vision narrow even further. He looked around, only noticing then that an ethereal darkness had been creeping up on him.

The darkness seemed to know he noticed it and began surrounding him at an accelerated pace. Lemonhope broke into a sprint to reach the end of the forest but found the darkness to be faster than him. He tried to go as fast as he could but could see the darkness begin to snuff the light at the end of the forest. He closed his eyes and tried his best to go faster than he ever has before and then felt the warmth of the sun hit his face.

With a sigh of relief, Lemonhope opened his eyes only to find himself engulfed in total darkness. Lemonhope stumbled through it trying to find some sense of reality but felt none. Fear began to strike at him again as he waited for some horrifying fate. In its darkest moment, a light pierced the ever-reaching darkness. It was followed by another, which was also followed by another. Soon the entire darkness gave way to a starry scape around Lemonhope, a dazzling spectacle of darkness giving way to light. But the beauty of Lemonhope’s ethereal prison did not take away his fear.

He looked around for some answer to where he was but did not dare to make a sound. A voice then seemed to emanate throughout the starry landscape and Lemonhope’s mind. “Greetings, Lemonhope,” it said. “I have been watching you for a while now, and I think it is time that we meet.”


	11. The Basilisk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lemonhope encounters an ethereal being which seeks nothing more than his suffering: The Basilisk

The starry landscape brightened when the voice spoke. “Your quest has been quite the fruitless one, Lemonhope,” said the voice. “Yet you still continue in a fashion that you accomplish your goal by merely attempting to achieve it. I doubt you truly understand what you seek, with what that mortal consciousness of yours can comprehend.” Lemonhope struggled to choose where he should look. He wanted to face whoever was behind the voice, yet he was certain that the voice was inside him as well as being everything he could see. He found a spot to look at when he noticed a cluster of stars moving.

It was a thick line of stars trailing along and twisting here and there. The stars then grew brighter starting from the front. Lemonhope’s perception kicked in and he could see the shape of the head of a large serpent approaching him. As the stars started to become unbearably bright, they began to fade away and give way to a slick and scaly dark moss green skin. The only stars that didn’t fade away were the eyes. Its face was horned and had two large protrusions to the back of its head. Its eyes were sunken away yet pierced through anything it looked at. Its mouth was slightly agape to reveal a forest of needle-sharp teeth.

Lemonhope assumed the serpent would be moderately big, but as it approached and only seemed to become larger. Instead of coming directly towards Lemonhope, it began to circle him while still keeping its head facing towards Lemonhope. Soon Lemonhope found that he was completely surrounded by the monolithic serpent. Its tail didn’t end but instead faded away into the endless hoard of stars. Lemonhope struggled to feel as if he existed next to the presence of the serpent. It slowly came to a stop as it closed the gap between Lemonhope and its head. It raised its head to tilt it downwards towards Lemonhope, now facing him. The beast held its silent gaze for a moment.

“Excuse my poor manners,” said the beast, its mouth staying still as it spoke. “I forgot to introduce myself. I have been known by many names, but you shall know me as The Basilisk.” Its head tilted slightly as it said its name. “What are you?” asked Lemonhope in a near whisper.  
“Invested in your pain, and something far beyond your comprehension,” replied the Basilisk.  
“My pain?”  
“I seek suffering, and you, Lemonhope, are ripe for the picking. Do not assume that I am here to end it and consume what pain comes from it. I find your current state much more appetising.”

Lemonhope felt an inkling of regret for leaving Frasier. Demonic grass powers would be very-  
“No mortal can strike me, you foolish lemon,” stated the Basilisk. “Quite the admirable trait to trust in one’s allies. However, I highly doubt that would be the case in your regard. Your selfish nature has betrayed you a few too many times, despite the selfless façade you display to hide your emotions. Your kind might find great success in their actions but fail to see how they prepare themselves for failure. And now you’re faced with the misery which you sowed.”

Lemonhope was at a loss for what to say, as all he could think of seemed to be reflected in some way in the Basilisk’s speech. “You have not yet attempted to flee, which I would say is quite surprising considering your feeble attempts to be free,” said the Basilisk. “No matter, I will show you what your ‘freedom’ will lead to.” A streak of light caught Lemonhope’s attention. The Basilisk did not seem to notice the light and continued staring at Lemonhope. The light came through a crack between the Basilisk’s tightly wrapped body. Lemonhope focused his vision and saw that the light was what would lead him out of the forest.

After a quick glance at the Basilisk, he dashed towards the light and found the crack large enough to run through. Lemonhope was stunned by the bright light for a moment when he broke through the starry landscape. When his eyes adjusted, he looked around for any sign of the beast, but could find none. He quickly walked out of the forest into a sight which he loathed. Castle Lemongrab stood in the distance, looming over the blasted landscape.

Lemonhope’s entire body froze up for a second before becoming rife with energy as he tried to run back into the forest. Instead of a welcoming tree line, he was faced with a strange and foreign stone structure riddled with rectangular indentations. Lemonhope looked around frantically for some way out of this nightmare but found none. His efforts halted when he heard a familiar humming. He turned towards it and saw a shrivelled up lemonperson strolling happily towards Castle Lemongrab. Lemonhope didn’t immediately realise who the person was, but one look at the harp on their side told Lemonhope enough.

Lemonhope struggled to comprehend why he would ever want to return to that horrid place and why he would be so happy about it. Lemonhope began to run after his older self to stop him, but as he came closer, the world around him faded away back to the starry landscape. Soon he was in front of the Basilisk once again. “Do you really believe that you are free?” asked the Basilisk. “I will let you ponder that once we part, but I must first thank you for what you tried to do for Obed. If you had not foolishly attempted to save him, I would not have found your succulent misery. Until we meet again face to face. Do not think that it means I will not be with you, for my vision is now focused on you.”

The Basilisk’s lengthy body began to uncoil and slip away from Lemonhope, its skin fading away to join the stars once again. Lemonhope waited for the stars to fade away but realised that these stars were real. He looked around and nearly fell off when he saw that he was on the very edge of a cliff. He tumbled backwards onto the small amount of solid ground that he had to stand on. It felt strange to have time pass by without your notice and kept Lemonhope’s mind preoccupied for a moment before he realised how helplessly stranded he was.

Lemonhope tried to grapple onto any sense of freedom as he found that he was trapped with no way out. It took a near panic attack for him to find that while he was not free to leave the cliff, he was free to wait for… something. Be it as it may, he was not going to let some ethereal snake break his spirit.

But the biting cold of the night and nothing but the stars to remind him of his questionable admirer slowly broke down his stubborn resolve. Horrible thoughts began to seep into his consciousness. Would this cliff be his grave? Was it his ideal for freedom that led him to this state? His control was slipping, and it was all thanks to the Basilisk. But it was because of Lemonhope’s actions that it found him. He was ultimately the one who brought him to this point, so he had to be the one to bring himself out of it. Lemonhope would die on his own terms.

Lemonhope considered the edge of the cliff which he stood at not too long ago. His final act of freedom would be to enact how he would free himself from his mortal coil. The Basilisk had no control over him and would never determine his fate. He stepped up to the edge and took a deep breath. He breathed out and let out a loud screech. “Wait, that wasn’t me,” said a very confused Lemonhope. He looked down and saw a giant bird flying out of the mountain. It took his clouded mind a moment to realise that there was a nest of giant birds hidden out of sight just beneath him.

Lemonhope banished all his prior dark thoughts and focused his new-found determination to live. He had to climb down the slanted face of the mountain to get to the nest and had to be brave enough to chance his climbing strength. Lemonhope took another deep breath, this one to steel his nerves, as he prepared to climb down.

The climb taxed all of Lemonhope’s strength as he clung onto any stone that protruded from the rocky mountain face. His nerves were tested when the stone would crumble beneath his hand, threatening to throw him off balance and down the mountain. He feared that his arms would give in as the depth of the night worked to tire them. But all of Lemonhope’s efforts were rewarded the moment he felt his foot touch the solid surface of the shallow cave.

There was not too much ground for Lemonhope to stand on before he had to be standing in the nest. The nest was stuffed with eggs leaving only a Lemonhope shaped hole between them. If Lemonhope were to escape the mountain, he would have to hitch a ride on the mother bird. Carefully Lemonhope climbed into the nest, snuggling between the eggs. Lemonhope’s thoughts drifted to Frasier and how easy it would have been to escape the mountain with him.

Frasier’s plant powers would be able to carry both him and Frasier down to the nest in an instant. Lemonhope’s thoughts soured the moment he thought of what Frasier would do to the nest. Being the horrid monster that he is, Frasier would probably kill the unhatched birds to make space for the two of them. Lemonhope banished the thought as he banished his friendship with Frasier. He had better things to think of, such as how would be the most comfortable way to lay between the eggs while he waited.

A strange warmth lay at the bottom of the nest, and it called Lemonhope to rest. His efforts were to be rewarded somehow, he surmised, and sleep would be the best choice. He laid his head on his arm and felt the darkness of rest take him away from the cold mountain. He finally had a good place to rest, and hope awaited him in the morning.


	12. Land of The Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lemonhope hitches a ride on a hawk and finds an ancient city from before the Great Mushroom War. However, a dangerous sense of curiosity takes him over as he delves deep into the haunted ruins.

Lemonhope’s rest came swiftly, but not with ease. His dreams were mixing with each other and only the worst could be remembered from each. He went through many iterations of the same dream dispersed throughout other dreams, each focusing on some meaningless idea. But his feverish visions soon started to meld together into a single experience. The world around him felt concrete and understandable, and he felt that he was his true self.

He found himself in a desolate Club Ice with not a soul in sight. Flitters of people from the past could be sensed and he could fondly remember them. Lemonhope searched for a sign of his own presence from the past. When he was on the dancefloor, he heard a voice which echoed a dissonant familiarity. Lemonhope turned to face the bathroom door next to him where the voice came from. It was loud, but the voice was too muffled for him to understand.

He opened the door and saw Frasier and Moe walking side by side through a forest. Frasier was talking to Moe about something. His voice was still muffled and became more so when Lemonhope approached them. Despite not hearing what they were talking about, he felt that he knew what their obfuscated words meant. They were having fun, determined Lemonhope from the two’s plain smiles. They were talking about their latest adventure and the sights they saw. Lemonhope strained to completely understand what they were saying, but the only thing he could gleam was that they talked about everything which was not him.

Lemonhope felt that they did not even have any thoughts of him. He did not know why he desired to be talked about, but the fact that Frasier and Moe forgot about him so swiftly stung slightly. A desire to be known had overwritten Lemonhopes emotions. In the depths of his agony, he forgot what was paining him in the first place. He tried to remember what he was thinking of, but the thought constantly slipped out of his mental grasp.

He was now faced by a strange green creature which had a look of disgust on its face. He felt a sense of forgotten familiarity in the image of the creature. Lemonhope looked around to see what it was that disgusted the creature so much, but he found there to be nothing around him. The creature’s focus was on him, and now Lemonhope turned his eye unto himself. He could fully see himself standing in front of the small green creature. Lemonhope’s skin had become wrinkled and his facial features were sunken. His eyes were grey with only the smallest hint of colour behind them.

If there was any form of familiarity between the two before, it has long been banished. Lemonhope took a deeper look into the creature that stood in front of him, and Frasier came into form. He tried to call out to them, but his voice was lost. His desolate self reached up to Frasier, but the world around him shifted before he could make contact.

He now stood in a lonely ravine faced with nothing but his faltering memory. Without his memory of others, and the memory of him in those he cared for, he felt his existence falter. The wind picked up and began to blow viciously though the ravine. Its howls echoed through Lemonhope and made his presence lessen. The howling became deafening to Lemonhope and he found it hard to breathe. The world around him faded and with that the howls shifted in meaning. They turned into the cries of a great bird. Lemonhope could feel a great pressure on him.

He opened his eyes and found himself pinned underneath the giant bird of the nest. Panic seized Lemonhope. He thrashed in an attempt to lift the bird slightly for him to crawl out but found no leverage in the bird’s weight. Lemonhope found it difficult to breathe yet did not find himself running out of breath. Lemonhope’s attempts to escape soon lessened as he accepted his mistake of sleeping in the nest.

In fact, it was somewhat sweet of the mother bird to provide him such lovely warmth. _The bird won’t stay here forever anyways,_ Lemonhope reassured himself. _It must fly away some time to get food and then I can just climb out. That is if I don’t fall asleep before and during those flights._ Lemonhope calmed down and began to manage his breathing. The thought that the bird was caring for him permeated his consciousness. Lemonhope considered this kindness and thought it would only be right that he returned the bird’s kindness.

He wiggled around and raised his arms above him. Taking in the love of the bird, he returned it with a hug of his own. For a moment, Lemonhope was lost in the comfort of a mother. He never thought that emotions like this were even possible. However, his reminiscence of a hollow nostalgia was interrupted when the bird stood up. Lemonhope clung to the bird and hung in the air. He could feel the bird move its head to look at the eggs.

All his movement had alerted the bird who had been waiting for her eggs to hatch for a long time. Lemonhope realised this and clung with an even greater strength to the bird. If the bird assumed that it was an egg that moved, it would go and get food for the hatching eggs. Lemonhope’s assumption was confirmed as the bird began to take off. In a flash the two were in the air and Lemonhope had to face a long drop to the earth.

Summoning all his strength, Lemonhope crawled up the bird and took a seat on its wide back. After calming down, Lemonhope could finally appreciate the result of his plan. He soared through the air on the back of a beautiful hawk and the land of Ooo far below slowly moved along. He took in the sights and realised that he was able to see multiple kingdoms and their borders at the same time. The mixtures of colour created a beautiful portrait of nature, painted by some invisible hand. He looked towards the mountains of the Ice Kingdom and saw that the peaks were small towers in the vast land of Ooo.

The mountain which contained Club Ice was small and insignificant compared to the length of the journey and the world around it. Lemonhope could see no people at his current height and felt a strange peace because of that. It reminded him of his travels with Plannel in the sky. Lemonhope stared out into the horizon and thought of what the future could hold for him. It could be bright, he decided, but he had to work for that brightness.

His moment of peace was interrupted when the bird began to descend. He had paid little attention to where the bird was charting its course, and he was slightly shocked to see a piece of land that he had never heard from before. From high above he could see a cluster of high rectangular towers surrounded by a wasteland. He was certain that the wastes were glowing but could not fully determine whether it really was. The bird was slowly descending to the outskirts of the strange rectangular cluster where a patch of trees grew.

A moderately large worm was grazing the surface of the green patch. Lemonhope prepared to jump off when the bird would be at its lowest. The bird was not likely to stick around after it got the worm. Lemonhope jumped the moment before he would be below the trees. For a moment Lemonhope soared through the air. He felt the coveted freedom of flight, yet the moment passed as soon as it began. His fall was cushioned by the branches of the tree, but not by a lot.

He still fell hard onto the patchy grass and had the wind knocked out of him. By the time he recovered, the bird and its prey were long gone. He could see a speck far off in the sky. “Thank you,” he said and turned to the cluster of strange towers. The towers were monolithic when viewed from where Lemonhope stood, and the tiny slithers between each tower were now huge. The towers which had been a quaint foreign sight from above now imposed a looming sense of dread in Lemonhope.

Regardless, he approached the towers. Being so close, Lemonhope could now tell that the towers were ancient structures. They had rectangular indentations spread evenly across them and some had a tinted glass exterior. The spaces between each tower were a flat stone surface. It was slightly raised where it met the towers. It amazed Lemonhope how well the structures were preserved. It felt like seeing a live prehistoric creature which Lemonhope had seen in books. As he waltzed through the rectangular pathways, he kept seeing entrances to the towers.

He knew that the towers could hold some danger, but his curiosity built with each entrance he saw. He turned a corner and saw a building which he could not possibly ignore. Unlike the countless towers, the building was wide and short. The middle jutted out and the building had a wide flat area in front of it. The flat area also contained a high amount desolate cars.

He approached the building with a bit of speed, his curiosity finally being released. When he entered the building, he was slightly disappointed. He was not sure what he expected, but it was not a large room with a desk lining the one wall, devoid of anything interesting. But before he left the chair ridden room, he noticed a figure slowly walking out of a corridor to the far right. “Hello!” greeted Lemonhope cheerfully. “Could you please tell me what the point of this whole place is?”  
Lemonhope received no reply, but the figure turned to face him.

It began to shamble towards Lemonhope and let out a faint groan. “Hello?” asked Lemonhope, now a little unsure. The figure still did not reply and continued to approach Lemonhope. “Are you alright? Do you need some help? Should I call for someone?” As if prompted by Lemonhope’s last question, another figure came out of the dark corridor. Followed by another. Lemonhope took a few steps back. _Maybe they’re just really old,_ thought Lemonhope.

 _Maybe they’re more than just really old,_ came Lemonhope’s thought when he saw the figure step into what little light the entrance provided. The figure’s body was completely distorted, despite its promising silhouette. Its face was at its abdomen and was oozing a thick green fluid out of its mouth and eyes. The other creatures soon came into the light and were also oozing out of their eyes and mouths.

Lemonhope recoiled from the sight. He turned to run but saw more of the creatures just outside the entrance. He desperately began searching for some way out and away from the growing horde of monsters. He found an answer when he saw a faded window near the entrance. He began a mad dash towards it. Curiosity killed the cat, and Lemonhope just followed in its footsteps.


	13. The Evolved Savages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lemonhope is rescued by the mysterious biker named Jack who takes him to the forgotten city of Allmar, the city of the silent savages.

Lemonhope was faster than the monsters, but he was heavily outnumbered. The way he came in was blocked by the oozing beasts and more were stumbling out from the depths of the building. He stood at the only way he could find an escape, a faded window. He climbed up the windowsill and tried to break through the window with his elbow. His strength failed him as he only succeeded in making dull thuds against it. He turned around to look for something he could throw through it, but the nearest chair was occupied by a stumbling oozer.

Seeing this reinvigorated his spirit and he rammed himself against the window with all his strength. It still did not break, but he could feel it giving away near the bottom. He clambered down quickly, all the while glancing behind him. There were more than a dozen oozers behind him and they were getting dangerously close. He looked at what made the window give, and saw a rusted latch holding the window shut.

He grabbed it in an instant and started tugging at it. With each tug he could feel it loosen, and so with each tug he could also see the hoard approaching. After a few more desperate tugs he freed the latch and pushed the window open with ease. He could feel the breath of an oozer on him the moment before he clambered through the window and into the wide, car filled area.

However, he had no respite when he found the car park to be filled with the oozers. The oozers made no delay in pursuing Lemonhope, forcing him to run out into the street which he came from. Every moment he spent running he saw the amount of oozers double. He saw them crawling out of the holes in the street and appearing in swathes from the towers. The hoard was endless and was catching up despite their slow speed.

“Help!” shouted Lemonhope. Despite his hopes that someone would hear him, he knew his cries fell on deaf ears. His run faltered as he kept looking around at the oozers crawling out of every corner. He managed to straighten out his run when he heard an ominous rumble echoing off the towers. He looked to see if the oozers were doing something to cause this, but he saw nothing except the shambling masses. For a moment, the road ahead of him was clear without an oozer in sight. The towers thinned and a small view of the wide wastes opened up to Lemonhope. All that remained was the low rumble and the moans of the damned beasts.

Lemonhope could put this nightmare behind him and escape. He was not sure where he was in the land of Ooo, but if he could get anywhere other than these haunted towers, he would be happy. But that hope faltered when he saw a wave of oozers emerge from the towers ahead, smothering any way out. Lemonhope’s run slowly came to a halt. He stood still, now lost in what to do in the face of the encroaching despair. The rumble was becoming louder, and the hoard came closer.

Would he die alone, in a place where no-one would care that he would be missing? He would fade away from the world and become as forgotten as the towers which he stood by. No-one would notice. No-one would mourn. No-one would care. A mere blip in the universe, small enough that it could barely even be called that.

Lemonhope struggled to focus on his melancholy as the low rumble became louder. He felt slightly frustrated and forgot about the hordes of oozers for a moment as he looked for a source. Lemonhope found his answer in an instant. It was hard to miss, the rumble guiding where he looked. It was a large motorcycle and someone with actual clothes was riding it! Lemonhope could not tell what the person on the motorcycle looked like from the distance at which he observed it, but it was someone who could help. Lemonhope found his courage again and sprinted towards the rumbling motorcycle. He did not even take a cursory glance towards the hoards closing in on him; he just focused on the gap which led to his saviour.

What were merely seconds felt like forever to Lemonhope as the motorcycle approached, but his sense of time resumed normally when the motorcyclist came to a screeching halt next to him. The rider wore a jet-black leather jacket with chains hanging off of it. Their face was covered by a bandana with an intricate black and white pattern on it. Their eyes were hidden away by chrome-coloured aviators and they wore a helmet with a spike on top. Their torn baggy jeans flapped in the wind when they put their feet down to support the bike.

Lemonhope stared in awe at the biker and they stared back in turn, only breaking their gaze to take note of the approaching hoard. “Come with me if you want to live,” said the biker extending a hand to Lemonhope. Their voice was gravelly, and it sounded as if they had a lot of phlegm stuck in the back of their throat. Lemonhope reached out to take their hand but stopped short when he noticed their discoloured skin. Lemonhope looked back at the biker quizzically and made a horrific revelation. He saw a small drop of green sludge dripping from behind the biker’s aviators.

Lemonhope took a step back in shock. One of the monsters that were pursuing him were now offering him a ride. The biker looked at the hoard again and revved their bike. “If you don’t trust me, then I guess I’ll leave,” said the biker in an annoyed tone. The biker was starting to pull away when Lemonhope jumped unto the back of the bike. The biker might have been an oozer, but at least it was talking. Lemonhope thought that his chances were better off with a monster that he could reason with.

“Hold on tight, this is going to be a bumpy ride!” shouted the biker with excitement. Lemonhope barely had enough time to grab on to the biker before the motorcycle roared with power and shot them forward. The biker made a sharp turn before they collided with the oozers, causing Lemonhope to hold on for dear life as the bike tilted and nearly touched the ground. The speed was immense and made the wind whistle in Lemonhope’s ears. He struggled to hold his eyes open as the wind blasted them dry.

Lemonhope could barely hear the oozers they passed over the roar of the engine. It was a raw form of power that Lemonhope had never experienced before. It felt amazing. Soon the bike slowed down and Lemonhope could look around and see where they were. The towers were shorter, and more squat buildings were around them. A gunshot grabbed his attention and he looked ahead, spotting an oozer falling over into a puddle of its own ooze. Lemonhope looked further beyond and saw a great wall surrounding one of the squat buildings up ahead. At each corner was a tower and he could see figures standing at the tops.

When the bike was close enough to the wall, a well-hidden gate opened up for them to enter. Lemonhope could see just beyond it an array of motorcycles, and cars covered in spikes and metal plates. When they entered, the biker drove expertly through the lot to an open space between a couple of other motorcycles. Lemonhope found the silence unbearable when the engine was switched off, but the silence was thankfully broken by the biker.

“I guess I have to greet you properly, since I saved you and all,” said the biker. He climbed off and faced Lemonhope. He then reached up and took off his aviators and bandana, revealing to Lemonhope the oozer’s deformed face. Their face did not ooze as much since the biker kept their mouth closed and wiped away the ooze from their eyes every now and then. Since they did not have a nose, it made Lemonhope wonder if they even needed to breathe. “My name is Jack and I’m one of the many scouts for this town here,” he said. “I was on my usual route when I saw the savages all going in one direction and I went to investigate. I never thought I would find a normal person out there. Speaking of which, what’s your name?”

Lemonhope hesitated to speak, his discomfort at Jack’s appearance stopping him at first. “M-my name is Lemonhope,” he stuttered. “I’m a little lost as to where I am and why you haven’t attacked me.”  
“Well, you must have come a long way not knowing where you were to end up lost here,” said Jack with a chuckle. “You’re in Allmar, the city of the civilised people! I’ll have to show you the town square.” Jack turned around and started walking towards a gate on the opposite side of the car park. Lemonhope’s stomach grumbled and reminded him that he hadn’t eaten for a while. “Do you have any food?” he asked as he caught up to Jack and joined his side.  
“We have some of the finest food you can scavenge this side of town,” said Jack. “Don’t worry, first meals on me.” The two walked side by side in silence before Lemonhope spoke again. “You still haven’t answered my question, why haven’t you attacked me?” he asked.  
Jack stopped short and his tone grew serious. “We used to be like those savages out there,” he said. “We were all like them, until we gained a conscious. From what fragments we can remember, weren’t always monsters. We all can remember the sickly green flash followed by pain. We think that green is what turned us into what we look like, and it destroyed our minds in the process. The savages that you saw out there aren’t even the worst cases. The green still changes them, and it has made some savages which are truly a disgrace of life.”

“But we think it’s that changing nature that gave us our thoughts and minds. As our eldest tell us, they were alone when they could first think. It was only as they slowly found one another that they started to form the idea of making a town for the more civil savages. We don’t know what makes the green change us so that we can think, but it is because of that that why we don’t feast on the living.”  
Lemonhope pondered this for a second. “Why haven’t you tried going to cities with normal people?” he asked. “If you aren’t dangerous, you should be able to live among the living.”

“I don’t think you understand,” replied Jack. “The living fears us. I saw that fear in your eyes when I offered my help. Last time we tried to join the outer world; we were rejected. Violently.” Jack paused a moment. “Anyways, I wanted to show you the town, didn’t I?” Lemonhope understood the change in subject and did not press any further. After a brisk and silent walk the two stood at the gate.

Jack looked at Lemonhope with a smug grin. “Witness the greatness of Allmar!” he pronounced as he opened the gate with an added flair. The sun that was obscured by the wall blinded Lemonhope for a moment when the gate opened. As his eyes adjusted, he was met by the sight of a beautiful town. It was contained in another section of the walled off car park, but had colourful shacks lining the wall. In the centre was a collection of stands filled to the brim with odds and ends. Civil oozers went back and forth between the stands, either looking at the items or buying them with piles of bottlecaps.

To the right of Lemonhope was a solid stone wall with a long single segmented window spanning the bottom. Near the top of the wall was the name of the town in bold blue letters. Lemonhope noticed that a few letters around the name were faded away with time. One of the more pristine letters, being the third L, was starting to fade away as well. Soon it would spell out Alimar. Despite the lively appearance of the town, it was completely silent except for a soft conversation here and there.

To make up for the lack of noise that the vendors of the stands could use to attract customers, they shook their hands about wildly and indicated to colourful and inventive signs that they had mounted to their stands. The oozers that roamed the lot had a unique fashion about them. Some wore normal clothes while others had outfits made of a wide range of materials all stitched together in elaborate ways. Lemonhope felt a bit out of place among the oozers, and especially so when those that passed by stared at him.

“Oh, and one more thing,” said Jack. “Don’t make too much noise, the ‘neighbours’ hate it when we have fun.” With that said, Jack silently lead Lemonhope to a more closed off stand, greeting people they walked by with nothing but a silent wave of the hand. Lemonhope was hit by a broad selection of aromas when he entered the stand. The outside of the stand looked deceptively small compared to how many tables were crammed inside.

Jack sat at a small table nearby and indicated for Lemonhope to follow suit. The moment they were both seated, a waiter was stood at their table. “Two regulars, please,” said Jack. The waiter gave a nod and went as soon as they came. Silence prevailed as the two waited for their meals. The short wait felt much longer than needed before the food arrived. Their food was a pair of elegantly prepared lunch bars with any mouldy pieces cut out.

Lemonhope was hesitant to eat at first, but one taste of the sugary snack and he had no complaints. Jack was still enjoying his meal when Lemonhope finished. Lemonhope looked at all the other silent customers before he spoke. “Is it ok if we talk?” he asked in a whisper.   
“Of course!” replied Jack. “Everybody is just so used to being as quiet as possible, they find no reason to talk in the first place.”  
“Oh, that’s good to know.” Lemonhope contemplated what to say next. Oddly, he found himself at a loss for words when he knew he could talk. “Jack,” said Lemonhope. “If you evolved from the more savage oozers, does that mean the savages outside can turn civilised as well?”  
Jack spoke just as he took a bite, causing him to incidentally spit out a combination of lunch bar and ooze droplets. “Yes, they most certainly can. Some of the residents here have turned pretty recently.”  
“So, those savages that you shoot out there can still turn. Why do you shoot the savages if that’s the case?”  
“Wouldn’t you?” replied Jack in a more serious tone.

Lemonhope was back to not knowing what to say. He thought he would have had a lot more to say to his saviour, but all he was left with were thoughts that nagged at the corner of his mind. When Jack finished his meal, he spoke up again. “I can take you close to some form of civilization which you would be more familiar with. Just don’t expect me to drive into any town.”  
“Thank you so much,” said Lemonhope. “I greatly appreciate it, but do you mind if I explore the town a bit first? I have a few things I need to think about.”  
“Yea, sure! Take your time, the savages calm down a bit more at night anyways.”

Lemonhope thanked Jack for the food and went back into the silent street. With no real goal in mind, he started walking down the street mindlessly. Now absorbed in his own mind, the thoughts at the corners of his mind were finally let in. What hit him first was the strong juxtaposition between the savage oozers and more civil ones. Each and every one of the silent oozers he walked by would at one point have tried to kill him. These people had changed from complete monsters to something that you could call a friend.

This thought brought him to Frasier. That little green fellow was his friend at one point, and at a time a monstrous one. If these oozers could have changed from monsters that belong in a nightmare into good people, could the same be said of Frasier? What fear he had of Frasier could be proven wrong. The fear that Frasier would descend further into anger and was unredeemable. Did Lemonhope’s fear cloud his own judgement? Frasier had never forced him to do anything, and Frasier had said himself that he could change. When Lemonhope had gotten a whiff of any bad that could come from Frasier, he made the fear filled conclusion that he had to get away from Frasier as much as possible. Frasier had done Lemonhope no wrong.

In fact, when he was with Frasier, he had someone with whom to share his feelings with. He had someone to talk to. Now Lemonhope faced all his fears and enemies alone. No one with who he could relate his pains, no one who would care to do so. As Lemonhope looked out unto the masses before him, he decided. He would return to Frasier to make up for his selfish judgement. Frasier might not have deserved Lemonhope’s selfish judgement, but neither did Lemonhope deserve his forgiveness.


	14. Dreams of Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lemonhope has seen the error in his ways and seeks to reconcile with an old friend, yet he does not know whether this friend would even forgive him.

_Ironically enough, trying to find someone can be quite easy. You ask a few questions here and you get pointed there. People have very iconic figures and attitudes, so naturally it can be hard to forget someone. Soon enough you follow a trail, and you hear what people think of the person that you seek. All the positives that they present and what they want people to see, not their true selves. Then you get close. You know where they are staying and that they will still be there when you find them. And you do. And you hope that they can forgive you._

Lemonhope approached the familiar visage of the grass town. The directions that the candy person gave were vague at best, but as he followed the path, he immediately recognised it as the one he followed back when he left Castle Lemongrab. As he entered the town, a wave of déjà vu washed over him, the feeling transforming into melancholy feeling of what had been. Lemonhope asked people passing by if they had seen Frasier, but none knew him. He decided that the best place to gather information would be at the tavern.

Lemonhope entered the building and looked around for someone who did not seem too preoccupied. He was only a few tables away from them when he saw Frasier and Moe. They were sharing drinks and were not paying attention to the environment around them. Doubt flushed into Lemonhope’s conscious. Would they even want to talk to him? He wondered what they would say when he greeted them. A series of possible outcomes went through his mind, each of them reflecting how Frasier and Moe would reject him and the hateful comments that they would fling his way. Each passing moment brought more doubts in his mind.

A tightness was gripping his chest and felt tighter every time he considered approaching them. _They’re busy with their drinks. I shouldn’t bother them,_ rationalised Lemonhope. He would just go book a night’s stay and try again the next day. Lemonhope had only taken a single step back when he heard his name being called. The call was not a friendly one, but one of cold contempt. He hoped that he was just hearing things, but as it was repeated, he knew Frasier had seen him.

There was no way he could avoid talking to them now. His walk across the tavern felt long and shameful. He never looked to see, but he felt that the entire tavern was looking at him at that point in time. He only focused on the table in front of him. The table with his former friend and their newly formed ally. Frasier spoke to him before he could take his seat, freezing Lemonhope in place. “What do you want?” he asked. Lemonhope had to steel his resolve before he could respond. “I’m sorry,” muttered Lemonhope.  
“Could you say that again?” asked Frasier, fully knowing what Lemonhope meant.  
“I said that I’m sorry.”  
A silence permeated between the three. “Well, I want more than just an ‘I’m sorry’ from you,” said Frasier, breaking the silence. “You can’t just come back after what you did and expect me to accept just a simple apology.”  
“I’m sorry about what I said and what I did in Club Ice,” responded Lemonhope sheepishly. Moe passively observed the two, a slight scowl showing on his face. “I’m sorry that I acted so selfishly,” continued Lemonhope. “I was second guessing you, even after you told me that I shouldn’t. I misjudged you and became scornful of you as a result. Since I have abandoned you, I’ve learned that one’s past does not simply define their future. I’m quite the hypocrite for judging you based on your past now that I think about it. I just want you to forgive me for what I did.”

Frasier considered Lemonhope’s words for a moment. “Why should I forgive you?” he asked.   
“Because I have accepted that I was wrong and forgave you for what you have done,” replied Lemonhope. Frasier considered this for a moment.  
“I’ll forgive you, but there’s one thing I’d like to know. Why have you come for forgiveness? I didn’t think you would have it in you to accept the mistake’s you’ve made.”  
“Through the course of what I’ve experienced on my own, I’ve realised something. I want… no, I need to have you by my side. At first, I thought I would do better without you, but I found that I did no better than when we were together. At least when we were together, I had someone who I could relate my troubles to.”

Frasier sat back for a moment and looked towards Moe. It was as if they spoke with each other in that moment with a mere glance. Frasier leaned forward and locked eyes with Lemonhope. “I will give you one chance to redeem yourself, and you’re going to do so by helping Moe and me figure out why he had forsaken his memories. If you show us that you have not grown from your past selfish, cowardly, and pathetic self, we will drop you in an instant, just as you had dropped us.”

While this was not the forgiveness that Lemonhope had desired, it was better than being rejected for his past actions. He found that the deal Frasier proposed was unnecessary, as he would have helped regardless. However, he was in no position to make or break any deals of his own. “I’ll do it,” said Lemonhope. “I’ll show you that I’ve changed and that you can trust me, as I now trust you.”  
Frasier nodded with satisfaction and took a sip from his drink. “I guess we should tell you what we’ve learned so far,” said Frasier. “No point in leaving you in the dark.”

“After you left, we figured that, since Moe is a candy person, we should go to the Candy Kingdom and see if they have anything on Moe. Once we arrived, we knew something was off. The older townsfolk did their best to avoid us. Some even ran away. Other townsfolk would hiss at us and throw insults. It was pretty unpleasant to experience that, especially after how _someone_ we knew rejected us in a similar fashion.” Frasier gave Lemonhope a pointing glare. “No one would talk to us, so it was difficult trying to get _any_ information from them. However, when we reached the more run-down districts, the people began to warm up to the two of us. They warmed up to us _so_ much that they were offering us ‘jobs’. We refused them all, to the disappointment of the shady figures.”

“But it can get a little tiring constantly refusing them, so we asked the strange guy a question. ‘Why are you offering us a job?’ I asked the guy. He was pretty confused by this question and responded by asking, ‘why would one of the Molasses bandit’s question being offered a job?’. At that point, both Moe and I realised that he was not offering a normal job. Thankfully, Moe can think on his feet and responded by saying that, ‘we were just checking that you weren’t a cop.’ The guy seemed pretty convinced by the excuse, so I thought about pushing it further. ‘Just to be sure, tell us where the bandits meet,’ I told him. He fell for that one as well and told us exactly where it was. To make sure he wouldn’t suspect that we weren’t who we said we were, we told him that we would meet him behind the shadiest bar for the shadiest people.”

“The guy left us alone, and strangely enough we weren’t approached after that. The bandit hideout wasn’t too far from where we were, so it didn’t take long to get there. The hideout was in an abandoned warehouse and we had to enter it by a door which was hidden away in the alley next to it. When we knocked on the door a little panel slid open and a person peered at us from inside. Without a word they opened the door and led us inside. We were in some sort of lobby which looked very fancy compared to the outside of the warehouse. A couple of guards were waiting inside and frisked us, taking Moe’s gun. While we were being frisked, I noticed a sign which looks like the logo on Moe’s poncho. In fact, it looked precisely like the one on Moe, cow with the text ‘Moe’s Molasses’ and all!”

“Regardless, we were let in and entered a bar filled with candy people who wore the same poncho as Moe. When we stepped in and they saw us, they were jubilant. Some even cheered. A couple of the bandits approached us and one of them called Moe, ‘Deadeye, best shot of the Candy Kingdom west’. Of course, we were very bewildered, and poor Moe didn’t know how to react. They then went on about asking where he went after he broke out of prison. Despite all of Moe’s wit, all he could muster was to say, ‘But I’m Moe.’ The whole room went quiet when he said that. ‘There’s only one Moe,’ said one of the bandits. ‘And that Moe is the big boss,’ they said as they pointed to a portrait of a candy person who looked like they belonged on a farm. I excused us as having to go to the bathroom for a minute, but they didn’t buy that. They were murmuring amongst each other when we left the room. Moe took his gun from the reception and we bolted out of there.”

“At first, we thought we were fine, but I think news travel’s extremely fast in the Candy Kingdom underworld since we saw more Molasses bandits skulking nearby and keeping an eye on us. Having a bunch of shady people eye you from the shadow’s doesn’t exactly inspire confidence, and when they all start approaching you together, you know something’s up. So of course, we ran the rest of the way out of the Candy Kingdom. When we were out, we decided to come to my hometown, since they likely won’t come here looking for us.”

“But clearly they weren’t the only ones looking for us,” interjected Moe. Lemonhope looked back at Moe, who was currently staring him down. “Anyways,” continued Frasier. “We were busy thinking of what we should do next. We have an idea of who Moe was, but in the process, we just got more questions.”  
“I guess you want to know what I can bring to the table to help you then,” said Lemonhope.  
“Your participation _would_ be appreciated.” Lemonhope considered all that he learned for some time while Frasier and Moe went back to talking to one another. “I think I have an idea,” said Lemonhope.  
“Well then, tell us,” replied Moe.  
“You mentioned that the bandits said Moe broke out of prison.”  
“Yes, and I take no responsibility for that,” said Moe.  
“If they were speaking the truth,” continued Lemonhope. “Then we might find some information on where Moe might have gone after he broke out of prison.”

“I don’t see how we would get that information from the highly guarded prison,” remarked Frasier.  
“That, my reacquainted friends, is why we are going to break into prison.”


	15. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lemonhope and the gang form a plan to break into prison. However, breaking into prison will be the least of their troubles...

“There’s no way we can do that!” exclaimed Moe. He had stood up from his chair and his chest heaved. “Didn’t you even listen to what Frasier said? The moment we set foot in that city the Molasses bandits will make sure we’ll never leave alive!” Moe then took a few deep breaths and sat down, glancing towards Frasier, and then resuming his glare directed at Lemonhope. In a much calmer tone of voice Moe added, “Besides, what information could we really get from the prison that we don’t already know?”

The trio sat in silence as none of them could think of a way to get around the bandits. “You know,” Frasier piped up. “If we can somehow get past all the bandits, the banana guards should be no problem. From what I’ve seen they don’t really have any idea about what they’re doing.” Lemonhope and Moe silently agreed and continued to ponder how they could sneak through the city. “The bandits won’t recognize me,” said Lemonhope. “So, what if I play music in order to distract the bandits which are hiding throughout the city? You two will be able to sneak by unnoticed, and I’ll direct the crowd while I follow you two as we get closer.” Frasier’s eyes lit up when he heard this. “That’s so far out there that it just might work!” he said.

“I guess if that’s the plan we’re going to use, we should start going to the Candy Kingdom first thing in the morning,” said Moe. “If we travel at a good pace, we’ll make it there by nightfall.”  
“Don’t worry,” said Frasier. “If there is one thing that Lemonhope can do right, it’s making music which people love. It practically saved our lives once.”  
“If you can vouch for that Lemon, then we might stand a chance.”  
“If it’s all settled then, how about a round of drinks?” suggested Lemonhope. However, he received no response from the two, and the lack of conversation that followed drove him to bed early that night.

He was awoken the next day by a series of rapid knocks on his door. A groan escaped his lips, but he quickly responded to the knocks with an annoyed “I’ll be there in a minute!”. His temper faded a bit when the situation reminded him of when he and Frasier had first become acquainted. All familiarity of that joyful past faded however when he opened the door and was met with the disgruntled visage of Moe. “Get downstairs; We’re waiting.” Lemonhope was not very driven to get downstairs after Moe’s form of a “Good morning” and took his time to prepare for the day’s travel ahead.

With no rush, Lemonhope later made his way downstairs to be met by Frasier and Moe having a vibrant conversation just outside the tavern, which died down as he approached. Frasier’s greeting was equally as cold as Moe’s, it being nothing but a mere “Follow us,” before they began walking. Boredom soon took hold of Lemonhope and he suggested that they talk about the beautiful vista that they were walking in. However, his boredom would continue as neither of his companions responded to his prompt.

Lemonhope would try many times to get them to talk, but never did they even acknowledge him. He needed no further motivation to fall back a bit and give the silent duo some space. Any hopes he had that their silence was independent of his presence was soon decimated as he saw the two begin a conversation mere minutes after he had fallen back. He found himself receding into his mind and dredging up hollow memories of what had been.

A foggy memory from his dreams was brought back to him as he found the sight familiar. He realized that the few good memories he had of Frasier had begun to be overshadowed by what melancholy he had bestowed upon himself. The thought came over him that Frasier might not have really wanted him to come back and was merely bringing him along out of pity, and not out of a hope for a reforged friendship.

“Quite the tragedy,” echoed a familiar voice in Lemonhope’s mind. In a moment Lemonhope was aware of his surroundings. The darkness had not engulphed him, but he could see it peering at the edges of his vision. It was following him, yet he dared not to look how much of the darkness there was behind him. The feeling of a warm breath on his back sent him spinning to look behind himself, and it showed what he dreaded to have approached him from behind. The darkness had obscured all of the world behind him, and from within the darkness came the Basilisk. Its head took up most of Lemonhope’s vision, yet the Basilisk was completely silent in what movement he could perceive.

“I suggest that you keep walking forward,” said the Basilisk. “You will soon fall behind if you do not.” Lemonhope hesitantly turned around and began walking. He saw that neither Frasier nor Moe had noticed the Basilisk and were continuing their jolly conversation, wholly unaware of the horror that followed them. “W-what do you want?” asked Lemonhope softly.   
“You are already well aware of my desires,” replied the Basilisk. “I have merely come here to ask _you_ a question instead.” Lemonhope felt the sickly breath of the Basilisk wash over his back and noticed the ground next to him be kicked up by the Basilisk’s tongue before it continued. “Why would you even consider bothering to come back to Frasier, Lemonhope?” asked the Basilisk. Lemonhope tried to answer the beast’s question, but continually stuttered as he started one sentence before giving up and then starting another.

Finally, Lemonhope could only think of three words to explain himself. “I need him,” he said. Lemonhope’s response was met with a deep rumbling which he could only assume to be a chuckle from the Basilisk. “I must say you most certainly did not need him when you were at Club Ice,” said the Basilisk, poorly hiding the laughter in its voice. “Even if you believe that to be true,” continued the Basilisk. “Your ‘friends’ most certainly do not need you. I do not see what you do in them, but I can tell you it was certainly not the spark of a rekindled friendship. In fact, what I saw was a pair of friends seeing a lump of trash that they could throw at a problem and then forget about. As useless as a tissue, yet unused for now. There is no forgiveness in their actions, only the motivation to use this old rag one more time.”

“I know Frasier wouldn’t do such a thing!” retorted Lemonhope.  
“But was it not you who assumed that Frasier would ‘kill you at any moment’?” Lemonhope could find no response within him and saw the darkness now fully creeping into his vision. Doubt permeated what little remained of his thoughts of retaliation to the Basilisk’s remarks and the darkness encroached with every passing second. “Hurry up, you slowpoke!” came through the shout of Frasier.

His voice penetrated the darkness and banished it from Lemonhope’s vision, and what he could see was Frasier and Moe standing still and looking back towards Lemonhope. He looked back for a moment and saw that the darkness was gone. As he ran to catch up with the two, he heard Moe ask Frasier a question. “Does Lemonhope always muttered to himself like this?” he asked Frasier. Before Frasier could respond, Lemonhope jumped in between the two, slightly out of breath. “I was just thinking,” he panted.   
“It’s dangerous when you start thinking, Lemonhope,” remarked Moe in a mocking tone.

Despite the two being more receptive to Lemonhope for a moment, there was no further conversation between the three for the rest of the journey. They might not have been talkative, but they were comforting to Lemonhope as they walked together into the night.

Nightfall was shortly followed by their arrival at the edge of the Candy kingdom. Their setup for camp was quickly accomplished, but with a slight caution as to not rouse suspicion from the Banana guards stationed outside the city. The campfire was soon lit, and Frasier produced a trio of rations that he had prepared for the journey, each of them being a meal tailored to the likings of each. As Lemonhope finished his meal, he found the night sky to be quite inspirational and took out his harp to strum a few notes while he sang.

_The great night sky  
which hangs up so high  
filled with great light  
which shines forever bright_

_Its beauty all encompassing  
beyond our mere understanding  
with its visage so wide  
it could fill gods with pride_

_But soon it ends  
and with the day it blends  
the great night sky  
which hangs up so high_

Once he finished, he noticed his two companions had no scorn nor hatred, only appreciative smiles for his craft. Despite it all, he still had a talent that he could treasure and share with others. And with that comforting resolution, Lemonhope went asleep awaiting to enact a grand plan with a pair of people that he might just be able to call his friends.


End file.
